All Coltrane solos at once!
Twist them horns
’round the necks
of each equation
and expand upon
multiples of death.
We were crowded
into the shitbins
of a floating toilet
dreaming of
an afterlife.
Memory stored
in a cloud.
Terrabytes
sea-major.
Winners of
religious thinking
praise books
for bookends.
Here is
the invention
of the astronaut.
First Nation
Sweat ceremony
In a spaceship.
To imagine hell
is privilege.
Paint a dreamworld
solid enough
to hold us.
margins and calendars
divisions of labor
contracts: social
and otherwise.
With each kiss
bio-dynamic in
direct co-relation
to stars and seasons
the ability to calculate
distance, harness power
stem cells erect mobile mansions
capable of projecting destruction
at greater and greater will, what could
be holding us here?
Here is what
death is like:
Life without fear.