DYING TOO MUCH WILL GET YOU KILLED

fidget spinner sundial 
resting on a twitchy plinth
in a misbegotten meadow
bristling with unseen life
and pollen kingdoms
floating in golden
oil… where sunbeams
lubricate the eye
and summer has swollen
into a seasonal
beast, with rough tongue breezes 
dense with taco trucks
and lavender
amber.

you can easily miss these wonders
trolling the cave of your actual shadow
with a false lamp or a mud torch.
you can actually forget to-
remember to see.

we are well versed to rehearse our destruction
as we soak in spoils, believing narratives of shame
before a wisdom redeems.
we camp where our souls are ill
to keep vigil where our understanding 
summons stupidity at speed
to hasten the ascent of our 
plummet.

eyes in cement.