hype

On Wednesday, I learned trees are biologically immortal.
The sun-warmed puffed clouds strayed. Daffodils bloomed
in trickle-down light bent abstract buttercream, back swallow,
just breath and heart beat. We configured ourselves
to fetishize normality. Told-you-so’s now history.
Serving up alignments so remote we constellate multiverses.
Skies of baby blue, that texture, now future tense.
It’s ok if this revision won’t translate just yet.

YOU, Detroit 2016

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