Questions

How many colors can you wear before your face is not seen? Does light inhabit you, or do you inhabit it? Does the shine that bites the brow of winter from the lower trenches reset all your desires at the chiming of the New-Year’s clock? Bastions of creamy white smooth delicious wet memories of sound? Seething, barking, little-friend-befouled and -squashed buckets of lame pipes all ratty with rust and hinges that open on nowhere but a door to a wall of an empty, dusty house in the middle of the remotest exiled land? Do you wear where you live on your sleeve? What color is your skin because of this? How can Angels be brighter than the decimals of earth’s resounding creations when all worlds exist simultaneously and forever, or forever even if they seem not to at the time?