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