A Border Dance

I can’t live without the Dead.

All the suns that turned
turned to make Time for the living.

All the stars born
bore the home of the Dead proudly,

bore the lines of horizons,
the place of hemispheres,

the songs from Australia to Alpha Centauri,
the songs from Mexico to Alpha Centauri.

Teeth fleet this precious attainment that is crushed.

Blue nights burn endings
this become beginnings.

The blue nights flip December nights for June
and laugh.

In the beginnings
we bring children to dance on sunrise sunlight.

In bones we walk the path
back home across the pasture dew effervescence.

Ants chew on cow skulls.
Tall grasses grow.

While infinity is right.
Still the Entirety has a point of axis,

gravity spills sometimes,

“I can’t live without the Dead.
We live together.”

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