WEBVTT

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This is kind of
another summer poem.

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This is about as rural
as it gets in New York.

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So this one's called "Nirvana."

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"Dank blossoms make their
way into nothingness.

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The pink path where we lie bear
hugging the good smelling dirt.

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Kids roll down the grassy
hills like Tootsie Rolls

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but shrieking, and the sun
tucks us all into oblivion.

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Orbs fly at us, purple
feathers shock us

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by fluttering off the
screen, and landing nearby.

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Are they laser feathers or
feathers made by my eye,

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or intruders blown out of soft
water crying cocaine, cocaine.

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The children sleep
like capsules,

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hot capsules in the sun.

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Pick one up, a bag of darling.

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Just get your body down
to the good smelling dirt.

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Here's where things
with shells live.

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Here's where we nap wholesomely.

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Here's where the dreams come
home, come home to roost."

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