bismarck, i looked up dark, but mine is none of that

instead it lights the way even during the day

the beacons beckon openly but quietly.

the sun is a sleepy wink on the black

horizon and the whales while time slowly. (you would think

time is round, but it is not. time, like dark, is a flatline for the living,

the breathing,

even the putrid flowers that gather under the feet of observers,

hoping to catch the last of the light)

and light is a fickle thing.

it changes moods and moves in spheres of reality

to unbelievers.

a cello blue-beat.

this, bismarck,

makes me so happy

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