Dios en mi cuerpo
the world grows fuzzy and colorful and mottled and beautiful
then her hair turns blank
perfect ending in a cloudy area
come in by sunshine or rain
because the story's the same,
it was a mellow distortion
of unclear proportion
and seismic collision
of comet-confrontation
anyway so you’re waiting at the station
and suddenly
you’ve reached your destination
it’s there, the monkey
on your back, your gnat
the thing you spat at, laid flat
the wildcat
sheared marmalade
concepts that turn into brimmings
flavor burp.
