A MINNOW IN A GLASS BEAD OF SWEAT

my afro is barking at the sun
and a star is born in a gelatinous  dark
where a premise is a lost art
floating on a barge
drilling into the river of thought
that cast you as a parasite
to live by.

when the sinking stings like a bee
the peat clips the mirror
where the carbon is sugar
and the reflection, a chain of events
that unspool light from it’s components
like a dueling drum
with rhythms too numerous
to ascribe to a beat
of a heart.

like wings at the start of a sky that you aloft.
a minnow in a glass bead of sweat
where winter is a tool for gods
that have nothing to say
without polished rocks
singing thoughtless 
in the pause.

a minnow in a glass bead of sweat
Because, Because……