i.

We have misunderstood everything. But not severely
or as a mistake. And now we have gotten away with it.
Sometimes,
            there is no need for consequence.
            Sometimes it is not up to anyone at all.

The fool is making      his rounds. The fool
The fool the fool the fool the fool the fool

I am painting lavender seeds with a brush thin stencil.
I am asking them what they want.

I will sing to you, I promise.
They say back
this is not how music works.

ii.

I think the problem is that we begin to sketch too quickly.
It is better to wait. My friend paints very well,
and he is so bored.
He says boredom is true, it is more permanent than anything else.

 I am so bored of plants,
so I light them on fire
and draw the new plants now instead.

 My hands are burnt. My hands           are embarrassing. I’m
learning to paint on spacetime fabric but
the problem isn’t
            that fabric doesn’t burn,
            but that fabric twists.

iii.

If I ever find myself trying to figure out where I left my [car keys]
I relax, and say yes the loss is [real] and everything is real.
Somewhere up ahead, a pilot in an airplane rotates,
tracing the wheel thirteen degrees clockwise.
Rest assured, [I am here]
and even my minutes
can count
itself to the
seconds.

Every time I finish a cigarette I say,
“this is the last cigarette.”
But there are many others like it,
and there are many yet to be produced in factories far away. I fail to say,
“this is the last cigarette I have.”

I am making
my language
available.
The lavender seeds
respond back,
you are
still talking
in answers.