sour

one gear tooth turns to invert colors

a green morning to red noon

i let sour wind blow thru me

to watch it fall out as ice.



another hour, another month, another lifetime

is not accessible, nonexistant

becoming two dimensioned with one cut, one blow

splinters truth into consumable pieces

and helps me keep the bitter fire going

Balloon

The smallest pinprick

With a side comment served cold

Silently deflates the hope of ever

as it sinks to avoid new disturbances

and settles peacefully on the firm line of impermanence