this is not
war-torn-territory or
UFOs descending upon our parade, nope
there are
little reasons to consider this
isn’t a cup of coffee
or anything strange outside
of this
brown table for a desk, nor
the black tea
I sip from within a
Pepsi emblem plastic
embrace, the world
seams, a donate
of itself
to the dreams of
what fills our desire, bellies
in an instant of lunch, while
Libya
in a boat across the Mediterranean, will
they make it, could they have
without the millionaire
from Louisiana and his Dutch wife—and
what about the millions of others who
may find relevance in Hollywood franchises, Marvels
and the comics of an industry, while
Thor
may actually
be
hearts’ of humankind
alike and
most likely without a
reliable gender, she, it
might be
animals
of breathing, what
it is
to be a body, to
have
something within it,
as our true
lack of identity, is
our true
state of being
alive—but who
in these dark
days of
government policy
confusions, will
remember
what
wasn’t
in
the inventions
of
man
but
held
in the
abstract
of
imagination
where
we
can
imagine
any
world
we
desire
and
birth
it
in the shape—
anything
with wings
flying
to populate
each other’s eyes, and
thoughts and
time
Orpheus Eye 