All that sound underneath you has got to be so heavy. Who holds it up must have red and scratched hands. An underearth God full of red sweat. I watched a moth die, it was white as noise.

I imagined a cloak made of milk jewels. It was following you into the mirth, but there was no one inside it. When it realized it was floating, all the crinkled bag laughter stopped, as if washed away in the silk of tide waves. I wonder if the moth was lost, I think it was scared.

You wake up with your face close to the dirt and the mud. You have dry leaves in your hair the color of life and sun flooding your eyes with silver flecks. It rises up over the world and falls straight into you, but you're like a mirror, it makes you almost heaven, like I could almost reach through you but if I only had more faith. You are whatever animal you choose to be, today. Maybe a happy bear, or just contented, maybe something that lives in the sea. I would want to be a bumblebee, today. I often am wondering, what is it like to make love upon a flower?

(And I knew that it was lovely to have a Black Bear thinkin' of me... )