Looking Outside

The sun is a giant purple grape in the mouth of the morning—

I feel the pulp of tomorrow bursting, sweet and electric,

The sun is a grape in the sky,

Where silver-scaled elephants fly,

The future is humming,

A bright cello plumbing,

The depths of a sugar-glass eye.

My thoughts are hummingbirds drunk on neon nectar,

Dipping into the pockets of a time that hasn't happened yet,

A garden of clocks starts to bloom,

Dispelling the dust and the gloom,

The gears turn to clover,

The struggle is over,

Sweet echoes fill every gold room.

Walking on water that tastes like forgotten laughter—

The weight of the path is a balloon popping—pop!—and then just the blue,

I swallow a star made of joy,

A bright and celestial toy,

The wind plays a flute,

The sorrow is mute,

A world that no hand can destroy.