proof (that flight is possible)

fake math | but what a pleasure to write it | why not | if it’s a consistent world? | like fake fur | ok to touch | no blood

a long amalfi coast at dawn there are | equations | uberopolis | of integers | indefatigable | googolflops | more than enough for this | universe

yeah i saw grauballe man in springtime too | desiccated tanned | and silvered in my flash | his shocked red hair that black head twisted back | garrotted | in woodland monoculture | i ran and felt the sprites uncanned

it coulda been bobby kennedy there | or john f | from the grassy knoll | dreams rise

jackie she | half rises from her seat and turns | through this moment we should not watch | she’s

lady luck | her neckline plunges | and in her box | a swamp of violins

then in london opposite the lyceum

a man a long beard throws bible high | it falls | it tries to fly | and crashes to the pavement | he shows the page it opens on | to girl black skirt | tucks it under arm | hurries | away

this guy i’ve never met before | and i | continue | wry