i want to eat every petal of every flower in every field
and fall asleep at night with a garden in the dust of the gut of me
churning into the soil of my stomach like some strange motor oil
and waking me in the dark soul of the night with new fucking flowers
new burning new beauty flowers organic and undaunted and honest
as night birds climb in mass on the top of the roof of this opera
and congregate to listen to the sound of me being born way too late
and way too late is never way too late when you’re born an opera
when you born of dead things as unusually and impeccably alive
a parade traveling through a graveyard at dusk inside of me
and never a question of what could have been because it all has been
because it all has been and i am awake and hungry and searching for petals
and searching for petals to ingest every segment of humanity over and again
i begin.
i begin right fucking
now.
