Posted by: Mark J Heidecke | Poetry
Paint the clouds
One day, when we’re healed from harnessing the sex between water and air; into the entire ozone, we will heal deserts. One day, we will grow as high as the clouds. We’ll need a few years, but it will be worth it. You can do anything with clouds. Lick them, feel them, paint on them. True story I saw it all. Another true story, I’m not insane just Mark. Listening to sonic youth’s album “Washing Machine”, I realized you are my all love always. You are my God. You are my private everything. Earth is private property from space, just like us. Everything else is sensual fuzz.