i know ghosts and they are made of light—
mountains are just the bones of earth
and my skin is just the artificial border
between me and infinity
when did moon get so mean
when did sun learn to spit its rays
instead of merely
pour
forevers are real and they exist in my
hands; nevers are real and they exist
in my feet
i talk yes i talk but my tongue
makes my words sound like popping balloons
so lively so hollow
he said i am overreacting
and i told him so was the universe when it went
from a dense singularity
to this