By: N. Cuzzi Don’t read about misery in paradise.
The dilation of the sky the split of the storm
I almost fell into it with my golden skin
A jellyfish touches a boy
a rainbow appears behind the wind
blows it on us like paint from shaken whiskers
experience is a wishbone
I concentrate on making it out of Florida alive
on the sun drying the page
but how long can we do this?
60 harvests? Until the bridge gives way —
takes the bay, takes the beach,
the tiki hu