Melancholy

Sweet pollen and the

Radiance among stars

And the cosmos.

I look across the desert

Where devil coyotes feed

Of the celestial sheep.

The mountains are like

Gaps in my memory.

Evenly spaced, filled

With dust, cosmos dust

Filtered from the heavens

And there is a

Damp, hollow cigarette burn

The acoustic black holes

Imprint on vast oceans

And now my eyes

are closed and I sleep

for one hundred years,

waiting,

waiting

Until I rid myself of the

Texture of honey marshmallows

Because none of this is

Sweet.

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