Floating

A Poem by JoSephMacGown

new thing- recent experiment

Waters on the piano- and dripping well from cold air- to folding chairs

Where your skin gets darker from a gray-scale sun-

Drenching up my crunched face- in this moment- when I feel here and you go and everyone in this hall is falling upside around and our legs are twisting in the dimmed lights- the floors feel like the word facility-

And I’m burning in this place-

But I feel your lips as I watch your eyes turn away from- you smile, but not for me- not for me do you feel these things-

And we’re washing up on the shores of my figure- clacking tap dance shoes and spring time flowers blooming up into their bodies up into your nostrils- you bending over- all the lesbians and hetero guys looking so sweet with their eyebrows like waves-and honey and forests of automobiles in formulated paths marked by pavement and paint and your smiles walking with your friends- and all of us feeling our friends arms- we can’t stop- and neither can our eyes- winding and turning- where are you? I love you- you’re so happy. Head beneath your short hair- turn to your feet and the speckled floors now- look down so far you start flipping in the air through the double doors with explosive verbal melodies that you sing all the way into the bathroom- even whilst you urinate- floating up with the other soldiers in the balloons surrounding our body. We slide up into our meeting place- I do some performance art- up in the stands- only a few see my practice for the big museums. A big base and the steps �" are infinite- I keep getting back to the top and bottom and you form a Siamese twin from 0 to everything- discretely lick your straw- and tempest of water and pressure and you know your physics well. Well- the place I fall every storm and passion up under for comedy and for feasts and then we crown some trees blushing your lips when you see that I see you with someone else- cause I don’t care and we are ascending now towards some infinite universe of chaos- and we progress on our physical bodies- and I can’t even talk to you- and I can’t even explain myself or ask questions- or volume unless I’m singing- and so I sing with vodka pineapples and another girl that drives my thoughts into these parking spots and parties and meaningless voices in our head- floating. Every time I see and close my eyes. It’s floating=floating, floating. Floating. Uncontrolled. Floating- up free. Floating.