Sunday Best
Golden corn, growing up through the middle of the sea -
broken glass, a message in a bottle for sailors and seaweed -
I am running through an underwater field of corn in my dream
Bare feet, but wearing my Sunday Best
Sort of feels like walking on the Moon, but with giant whales
and sunken ships
My hair dancing wild - baby blue glitter sky up above and
the Heavens on my shoulders,
I find eternal peace; the sea is like infinity
Untitled
Inside the funeral home is like Heaven's waiting room;
the pleasant dream-like piano music, the freshly vacuumed carpets,
the flowers,
the absence of any strong scents - making small talk
with a man in a nice suit, who is ushering you into the double doors -
He smiles with a gentle understanding and nods
Everyone just lined up, waiting
Pomegranate
Miracle swan, flowers speaking in tongues
- daylight's halo has sunk beneath the surface
Fruit of the dead in my palm, fresh flowers, Earth's suggestion
A dream of white trees; what will become of me,
living
forever, you're never a peasant with a heart made of gold
Moon looks so lonely - her reflection in the dark water
and tree branches like veins - the
Sun always comes up again, always beating like a heart,
forever
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