it’s not about me. it’s about ideas. new ideas.
if i can remove my ego, i will be

the loudest voice.

light dances like a dress inside the orchard ruins: 
you say this was someone’s body 

once.

Muted looks and conversations that stopped
When I entered the room
I took it as attention
Momentarily distracted from the
American Embassy’s vodka and caviar

your parents’ memory
falls apart like an old, blue shed, 
                                 but somewhere they hold you

the girls ooh & aah
loose and wild on the streets
as black lights flash
and the flames of candles dance

I throw fruit into the gully, 
when the oranges and apples
start to decay in the fruit bowl
of unintentional neglect,
I gather into my arms the
glorious seed
bombs