Going back and forth

Back before there was even

Sound

The skies were sprayed a

foggy blue

In

The vast

Void

.

Nothing

.

There was simplicity and comfort

But never much movement. Except

the

neon

pipes. So cool. Just like that first

Breath after the wave crashed

Down

On

You. ‘Bbbbbooooahh’: your ears

Wipe open, ‘fumpf’ eyes are working

clean

...

why must a poet leave something behind? why have a word count? why have a limit? what if my work is the beauty you hold between your heart and eyes, facilitated by my pink imagination goo pulsating in neon to you.