This is art I made for a benefit for the people of Darfur that’s happening Aug. 14
a poem I wrote for U :::
prime numbers relate states partial to
parallel preambles that mean nothing
to eyes whose water
drinks from pools in
deep dark forest roots.
shake trees to invoke kingdoms
a proper chamber burrowed
boldly through trembling states.
a confident dreaming ox
walks along mountainside spires
in concentric tides
that wash away unstained
checks all pulled from banks
and re-deposited into subtle residue
which resides inside eternal
storehouses of bliss.
peanut butter sandwich salutations
beneath black flags that don’t salute
through bold black eyes that vomit
truth tickets free of charging buses
and stop-sign bedposts.
a party you host for turtles named patty
and candles named carl.
one jar of lighting bugs, four ounces honey, five crimson lanterns, six feathered turbans, seven ancient snail shells, a blinking eyed bunny, two thousand four hundred and thirteen laptop computers, twenty five undeniable memories of death, and you,