Diego Enrique Flores, Grass I (photograph)
In continual guidance towards
the light, I walked forever,
my trepanned skull whistling
in the wind, an extra coal-y eye
from which I was seeing
all colors, all color
and the shadows on the inside
of my eggshell face had never
made such pleasing shapes,
birds and trees and mammals
who expressed no interest
in eating me, only licking
my ears and reminding me
how precious it is to hear
breathing on your neck
when you have allowed it,
when you have asked
for it, said, please come
here, I would like to feel
your fur and pulse, sugar
and the shivering weather.