Stone Breaking

There is no blue world, only the time line and the place where you realize the stones

mark your spot, tossed in when you aren’t paying attention

stones kicked, axed, thrown, it doesn’t matter, the stones

there can’t help you,

when you fall from

atmospheres you won’t be created, pressed into

comets or sea glass,

there is nothing.

I wanted rescue and I wanted again and


they know that the stones will break

them, a trillion new tinging

pink particles for the stars,

upside down cycle made just for those ethereal


hanging, fresh meat

above the clouds, salivation,

ethereal mouths of multiple colors–does it matter? It’s the only

thing that really worries them: destined to shape the helplessness of us.



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