Three poems in one:


am i a dot or
a sun
an orb fluttering on
the surface of an elemental see
reflecting a me i don’t know
i recognize
don’t no
i sea
i can’t be shore
i am a sun
a dot or


we are dots on this
celestial dress
that seems sometimes
a universal mess
where peace is less and
war is more and
words are whores who
lie and belie us
lay and betray us
beget filet forget and grey us


so we are dots on a
celestial dress
lying crumpled
at the foot of a bed
waiting for some god
awful cross dresser
to put us on
wear us out
rise again
spill his bloody
merry seed down our front
til he ruins us irreparably
considers us a bother
sews himself another
throws us in the trash