the sky, i’m realizing, is a realm of unapologetic bruta.
i think that makes me love it more- the bright devastating rain,

the lightning, the wind
which always is leaving. and atmosphere itself: the fact that something
as slight as a haze is at once enough to give us life and

keep us humble.
what seems impenetrable by day is by night so skeletal
and delicate that i remember the entirety of the nonsensical melodrama is contained upon a rock, a miraculous desolate . electric little rock,
floating through infinite somethingness; remember

that we are small animals, soft animals, fragile animals. animals who all break and who all are eventually broken. not special poem ill find

‘listen to the thunder what I'd really like to have back is Irreality. THAT would be nice. i

.