We’ve got to talk about
the important things
even when the moon
gets splintered off
into the outer galaxy
away from us
and nothing is the same again.
We can’t forget about
our history by only clarifying
what we would like it to be,
and burning everything
we cannot make amends with.
There is a peach pit in her
hand that she is holding out
as if to say to follow her.
It could swallow her
this world where we grow
everything we own
within the center of
the empty heads around us.
When they found us we were
looking for a sign, and they
provided it in sunshine,
gold, and nearly endless grain.
It was a harpoon through
the middle of
the brain.
Teleporting Typewriter 