unicorn

ready the cannons.

pores tinted with red,

exposure is quite

perpendicular to

that of our cause instead.

these gatherers don’t know

if they’re just too dejected

or seeing how human nature

is really effected by such

decoys they’d call commodities,

times too short, let’s revert back then.

a retriever’s glistening taste buds

influence the light and it’s oddities.

such as the horizon scatters orange

on the suns eyelids and parts the

clouds like strands of hair.

coming home you find them

reciting cartoons like scripture,

the vhs buzz tickling your eardrums,

the tv tinged with an ugly yellow

but they loved it anyway.

once outside, they let the meadow

banter with their aftermath

plucking grass of different strands

lying them to rest on their foreheads

placing the filtered green before their eyes.

they could see stars again.

you

they let their eyes drown in pools

of pacific, a coral reef of irritation

poking out from the borderlands.

a blue towel wrapped around a

bodice after a thunderstorm came

around uninvited, how rude.

they handled each other’s conscience

like newborns. they told stories of

indigo spirits fleeting, creating man

and women and otherwise, beating in

the earth and scoping mountains. and if

they’re still around

and they are

then they’d still be here tomorrow to read

to us yesterday.

and that’s alright

phasing in and out of a dimension, ultra-violet,

a sixth sense, they’d still make time for you.

always

ready the cannons.