reaching, seeking, the color of moments

Pulp and Starry Life


Head feels carved out like a pumpkin

Heart feels like a pomegranate split open

beautiful and glistening

stains the paper towel beneath

Juice dribbles down

over chins and mountains

Seeds taut

ready to be bitten

and hopeful moments in infancy

until the now

string together

in comforting constellations

Life

full of tangential spearing

pulp and starry gleaming

web of astral living

net of The Divine

Want to be murdered by the sea

but it doesn’t

Want to be saved by the sky

but it can’t

So we just fall

from trapeze wires

that connect life to life constellations

into the net

of The Divine

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