Yves Klein is dead.


Removing the body from the mind                                 They returned their lengths, their widths

Till all that was left was depth                                         Blue depth: blue and profound nothingness


When I hear your voice
it is like my smile is foisted up by a hoard of trumpets on the high seas, but climbing somehow towards the sun like kites full of flapping rhythmic laughter, up, laughter fronted by a host of sheened teeth defying the scalding eye like unmeltable shields on wings of wind


Yet subsequent days bring subsequent truth
of the matter & my mind
reconfigured as an open doorway
now obscured by beauty
a tree that stands straight and asks me to climb

That was last night’s dream.
Today, I am jumping too hard and fall through the floor.
Tomorrow I am looking too hard down a well and find myself inside it.
You can simply throw a blanket over the hole, and tread lightly over it.
A dream is not really anything.
But if I have nothing, I am prepared for everything;
giant coastal purr, floating.


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