This next one's called "Lullaby".
It's kind of like space between the lines,
try to float them if I can.
"Lullaby".
Everyone's listening to someone in the air,
and singing knows every chestnut from way out when.
The mourning dawn of living each apple and every atom
in the tooth actually small circuits uncover vast spaces.
Even if invisible, you see the picture field
and the lightning.
Is there a difference between a photograph
of a child and what memorials.
What or what is the role of art, if any,
in your particular emotion machine.
The limits of thought and seeing, perhaps.
It explains water is one way to apprehend air,
the morning light is in us, a stinging charge in the mouth.
This is something everyone feels at least once.
Here, before you started listening,
at the beach, and soldiers by a desert.
If anybody looked, we are all stranded
by the shore of something.
I mean to say seeing pictures inside as they are.