hope is practically homeopathic
a floating point error (get it?) in tasteless water
oh, but my fever distills anything.
simic wrote of saints subsisting on spiders
I’m no saint. I’ve got words, though,
just a few might carry me for two months,
it’s a big sea,
plenty of fish,
they sure say that but yeah, maybe back in the day?
it’s 2021, hairlines receding and coastlines creeping…
hope is always a flickering candle
or Gandalf on the 5th day with Howard Shore-certified daybreak
but hey, i can’t afford that much.
Oh ephemera esoterica, lensed, collated –
give me one photon
i swear, i’ll cock my head at just the right angle
and refract until you’re a star burning my night.