super fragile

super fragile composed of vapors

my world collapsed and formed into a star. the star was super fragile and made of vapors but i didn’t care. there was little i could do about it. i infused the core with kindness and developed a fuck you solution for any intrusion. the moon of the earth changed by its proximity to the sun. i lived out there, too, and went through many moods. as one replaced the other, life got pretty interesting. we did not need to get along, you and i, but when we did we could walk and talk again, like friends. this was nice and i needed to be alone again, super fragile, composed of vapors.

this moon is not pink and they-them-theirs never will be

Though you call them the ‘pink moon’ and dress them in floral prints of the season, the full moon tonight will show their true color to you tonight and let you be let down (or up), and they will light your faces up so they can see how happy or sad you are to see them so. And they will shine upon the phlox they were misnamed after, whose flamed flowers will rise in unison to the top of their stems to peer upon them, and feel their power of persuasion, and the feeling will feel full and beneficial and the phlox flower water will become bubbly and pour pink champagne into the trumpet of the lily. All will at very least acknowledge the full and vibrant moon for their mighty refusal to be classified, categorized, denigrated, or diagnosed. Darwin may well be confused, yet his curiosity a contagion the whole world could catch. The moon was a kind moon, a gentle moon, a moon of many colors, and kept their feelings somewhat to themselves, so not to disturb the galaxy.

little children made a song they like to sing
every april comes around…

then one day 
the pink moon got away
turned blue 
for me and for you
happily and for 
ever

too