Hear this! Mass is not an obstacle.
It is equally a nothing. You can restore
your mother's voice by playing endlessly
with water. A unity machine can turn
the tumor of her body into flakes of cosmic
snow that will cover the whole garden,
the ladybugs, madonna. The universe is forked
like the tails of yellow tuna, more and more
good fortune. There's a horse for you,
a hot-blood. You can ride it to her heart.
The valves are locked? Just giddy-up,
don't waste time on manners. If someone's
lurking in her arteries, a trumpeter, a wanderer,
a wrinkled general from space, remember
this: he cuckolded your dad, tore her brocade
curtain. A bone to pick? I should think.
Trample him, but hurry. Your steed is losing
parts. Starry starry lifetime. Serpentine at canter,
then a flying change of lead, then cast a spell
on her last breast and penetrate that dragon.