DEATH POOL FOR DYING
I am right now hiding on a different planet from something I don’t know on a different planet. I sleep underneath the bed to pretend I’m in a coffin and that you are looking for me. You are so sad without me that you become a paper swan. A nun once sat next to me on a crashing plane and prayed that I wouldn’t die, and when I didn’t die, I had to eat her. We think the sun is at its most beautiful when it is going down, going away, but it’s not actually doing either of those things. I get myself in face-down position. Look, the sea is so see-through and there are no waves in the sea. On the side of the sea, my dad is saving me with his pants on.
This is the poem, and the notes I wrote for the poem, for the Pocket Notes event, Pocket Tones/Exile Water, that is going to happen on Friday Night (I just told you about it in that last post). This isn’t what I have in Pocket Notes #2–I wrote this just for Friday night.