Forum Post: Love is a canister of gas you can throw

as the gull and sea and steel and glass recede you decide to freeze

imagine more heads than you can count weaved like wool like the woolman’s hooded coat imagine more heads than you can count shaking the canister of liberty corked hot with anticipation imagine they are children they are children who have never formed animals from clouds who have never been taught to read who know words only as they form them words like water only when it’s been driven to need

say water until it loses it’s tongue say water where it cannot run say water imagine you are only one small part of a sea you and the rich man you and the senator you and the skeleton you and the alligator you and the bee you and the sea you are a part that leads water to run where water might

there are still a thousand fields unshorn in your very county dogs that run tiny people who know nothing of your occupation who wear a dress to church who blow the fingers of dying flowers there are still unbridled beasts who cannot say your name your standstill is not for the rich man it isn’t for the broken officer’s horse is isn’t for you if you can look past your tuesday it’s for the untouched blade of grass the unformed cloud the naked territory you once had, which is drowning

love is a canister you can throw back love is the first gasp of air, but not the second love has no thought does no savings does not balance the bills on sunday when the office has died down love doesn’t follow water love is the water love runs where it might love is the second of hesitation before the fistfight and the fistfight itself love is begging the white collared cops to lay down their arms and raise their fists so that we may fight as brothers have so we may bleed alongside our beloveds love doesn’t make a cheeky sign with a colloquial rhyme and a lick of duck tape across the lips love is the tongue that tastes the glue and says so this is what glue tastes like and thinks, amongst other things about the glueman’s trousers which must stick as he lays them, bedside, down at the end of his day

and so now the gull and sea and steel and glass recede as the moon calls to them like children as to moon admires the might of men as the moon upon the hudson river cannot hear their chants or their contrition because such are things that are old and this place is young these times are new these cries are like the roman child's you are the roman child who laments the fall of rome instead of her own starvation

but again, remember you are also the Autumn you are also the Autumn you are the very Autumn that sparked the sea to look within herself and say look they, sometimes, can be just as me!