Yellow Planetary Coma
Keyed into my genes
My limbs are language cursed
crucified hostages, meshed with words estranged from the golden flower
Slouched into my sacred outfit
the purse of my borrowed skull
clanks with literal galaxies
preoccupied and carving
onto recycled paper
Erect sun wonders why
I reject
the curvy pace of earth
as frenzied roots puncture the brail
of my heart’s inertia
