Madness. No.
Happiness is fleeting glints
called Moments
we had it all
going along, the way we rolled
dice, high and wide
and thought throwing our cubic weight
around displaced any
matter our way at all.
Red. I read it in black and white,
No. I saw an orca pass through,
rarely, winter in San Diego
so it was weird, and then I remember
they are more traveled than we
and speak louder
amongst themselves, miles away
intonation carries, not by volume
of course-migration.
This is the name we gave to travel
frequently, and holiday and cetacean
all of our conceptual ponds.
No. This makes sense.
We were just busy with containing
must and should, which we may need
to carry with us atop this
Madness. Spinning out of alignment.
Speed wobbles. Yes or No
should have been enough
for a firefly or bacteria to glow.
Painting by Johan Christian Dahl (1819) in [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
