This is some sort of state change, not sure exactly— am I a vacuum, or do I feel entropy? Sloughing away on a molecular level. Or do I feel spacious, expansive, empty? There’s no panacea for converting to vapor– when the night cools off I’ll just collect on the walls.
Rain like lace. I hate this weather for its consistency. My heart is temperamental as a leaf, it turns and turns and drops at anything. Scientists think that red pigments lower the freezing point of leaves, keep them viable for longer with the heat of anger. Or, having fallen, that anthocyanins leach out to poison the roots of any competition— such ugliness begat by beauty. And at the base of every leaf, an abscission layer, for […]
OPTIONAL POETRY 