A packed mind is like a rotting
orange crawled over by endless ants
that are drawn forth from the dirt
like living oil.
The black tree branches in the sun
drink in all the heat,
and the girls paint their eyes
to match the dark presented
there with true devotion.
Irritated skin shifts and bursts
like foaming sea, homeless
builders live with scars
that spread from forearm
through the centers of their palms.
Across the skies there can be anything,
time taken for the sake of leaving out
what doesn’t work.
Women like her live long to show us
there are different ways to be here
and there is always
room for those that seek to learn
then earn and give it all away.
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Teleporting Typewriter 