Klare Lanson: graph axis

we are all pushed along by books, dragged by boxes
counted by other peoples numbers, silenced by a roller
coaster, driven by the vision of the other and how bout

the mask that only seems to cover half the face these days.
most i's are in capitals yet this eye turns lines and graphs
into curves of water that drip fluidly into the place where

your most cherished dreams live. it's love in shades of blue.
it's life that equates meaning. it's an x with kisses and a y can't
we all just stop for a minute. it's clusters of memory that knead

us into recognition of self and plead with you to come
to your senses. cherish the colour of the sky. a loss of visible
markers, the blurs always make new scuffs into the streaming

voice of your body. dripping with sensibility are the hands shaken
recording the unknown possibility of our destiny. clouds of ideas
hang on the line. they haven't been washed in a while, they're just

airing. a man falls from the sky and shoots an arrow into the world.
they don't navigate anymore, these arrows are the coordinates
for how we measure our life. they form stairways that lead into

a supermarket where we buy our daily needs. remote control
us. scratch raw figures. create formulas that socially collide,
making form blush with embarrassment, stretching for numbers.