There is a jellyfish that doesn’t die.
It grows old and then young again and then old and then young in a circle of cycles in a lake living on and on and on
I want to eat one
it doesn’t matter if you knew better
or if you were doing your best with
the knowledge you had
if your own hindsight doesn’t shame you
someone else’s will
if it doesn’t, you’re probably not human
I use poems the size of war.
I write them in the morning
after the pretty city motions work.
When other citizens shop
for beans or rake progress
I arrange sounds that fuck people.
So high they get, after my oos and aahs
they promise not to kill again