Here are the lines that are drawn by the prisms of the waters on the grasses in the sands of the skies.
I have
a sun palm.
The sun in my palm
radiates out its
sun lines.
It is a human palm fit between tension and ease.
A part, a top a thousand sequined seams.
which we wave around our arms
and are a star
of hands, are rays of stars.
sun spines. sun crowns. sun eyes.
colonies of beautiful and hideous
croons.
we pluck apart the others’ feathered heads
turned by the turns of the birds.
In the culture of birds there are blue birds and swooping birds and crooning birds and chirping birds.
turning birds in starry meadows on the navels of the earth.
we tumble inconceivable mounds of swollen clouds.
Scatter into salted oceans pillowed into
parts between our knees
bent upon the bottom of the earth of empty beds.
we will join ourselves together
into migratory patterns
to unjoin
alone along our wings glide
To lift up!
the folds of rainbow parachute
Poof
our little bodies cross legged in the ruby
glow our faces
in the colors of a billowy
descent up lit, the rainbow tent
to see us
parachute us
.
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