What can’t be categorized deserves remembering. 

Infinite photons fractalizing, 

mycelium webs dreaming, 

kaleidoscopic galaxy exploding, 

hermaphroditic fish fucking, 

sticky humans touching, 

Time tangling stretching folding. 

Moss blankets my cold body—its tender embrace

a door to unending spirals converging

at the birth of an orange sun.

I am an unexplored memory, 

a hummingbird hovering in the redwood rays, 

dusk-dust in the still air.

My body: a sanctuary for desire. 

Sacrilegious compounds of chemicals swirling into each other.

Who wields the hand that holds you, I, the cloud above us?

Put your ear to the whispers gathering in the creek’s shadows. They will tell you.

Stay, no, glow in the silence: there is more to this world than 

bones flesh inhale exhale flames tears touch gasp release return.

There is more to this world.