But a Storm is Blowing From Paradise

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97 {H0 } Ring of fire then the planet cooled sleeping through it all the planet’s people There are things that happen nightly Agonies of dusty collisions—that’s what there is to look back upon Forward America, forward with as many grapes in your mouth as you can with your rollerskates cornfields redshifting into the future & hair modestly clinging to lips in the morning 98 outside the subway because he loves so absolutely the color of my hair he’ll call me Blaze & let me call him King on one condition I purchase my token. Descend. If I choose not to hear him, does he just not speak? If I tell him to go, does he go? How would you know? Wait—before you check the lab results, tell me—is the rat dead, alive, or 50% of both? I purchase my token. Descend 99 something inside me grows frowny, inflamed. Entropy or another word at play. I run around animal curious hold my hair to closing car doors, my fingertip to the stapler underside push up in little pulses. For all the Sturm und Drang, there is a name for our puzzle. Once mixed, molecules speed up. Inhabit the body in outrageous concoctions. Little blasts of solar light. Event horizon or brackish tornado froth? There is similar evidence for both 100 tremendous boom & everyone is feasting. It’s how we got here. Stars gobbling stars. ...