Sugar Glass

Let's watch bees on Mars wearing armor the color of an oil slick. Rainbows do not appear where innocence is encapsulated, they appear wherever light arranges itself particularly, speaking to your optic nerves; or rather to say that nature does not replicate goodness or evil, nature only replicates itself,

while we feast on the hues of poplars electromagnetic energy buzzes. And nothing is unnatural, only strange and difficult to parse, sewn up with the unlanguageable which pokes through like pine needles, like icepicks, needling at our pink coils.

O the agony of awareness, a niggle I neglect and attempt to subsume in a warm bath of metadata, notes and asides; let the roots clutch and then unclutch; there is no mystery to the monarchy; they are studied on glass slides like spores which proliferate.

There are colors for earth and colors for air.

Sometimes they trade.