things naked, baring themselves as an
act of bravery,
i have a migraine. i am
but the walls strip themselves and
the cloud over my head, tumultuous
spurts its yellow, exacting electricity.
i've never been one for umbrellas.
in the face of royalty, i am; i am inside
a blank landscape, unoccupied;
something to become a desert-
that mouth of sand.