bee flI

coming into becoming

requires me to be i

*

the reed cries

for your wet songs

are not flowing like they did

before being cut from the water

where music was under the sun

and alongside fish

who know nothing of the death around

but only spoke in a language that vanished in

the translation somewhere down the line to now

where there are no words forgotten

just love lost

where there are no misunderstandings

just happiness holed out

in an instrument that was no more

than a plant

then a stick

then your voice

contained in a little ocean

that tries to remember

the scales and

the beginning cry

*

bruise spreading into

the nothing i am

i feel alone

and so ask the lonely universe

what it is like to move nowhere

and it says like being

and i ask what is that like

and it says pain always

a stretch without muscles

muscles without bones

my red shifts to blue

then to white

the endless night

*

if nothing else

know that

there is nothing else

but nothing else