Messing With the Sky

The light was so bad I made some clouds—

little cotton balls taped to helium balloons

drifting up to the heavens.


The first were the standard balloon animals:

dogs, sheep, horses, giraffes, lions.


They folded conventionally but

became much more creative creatures

with more cotton piled on.

The orange poodle became a bison,

the sheep a yak, the horse a hippopotamus,

giraffes just puffier and more absurd giraffes,

the lions awesome saber tooth tigers.


I added man, men, woeful enough that they needed a woman to tell them what to do.

Later I made the men sheep and the women lions.

I gave the dogs rabbit ears.

The sheep were now wolves.


I made the sky ark a canopy

to cover it from the dissolving sun,

a fluffy river to slack its thirst,

filled it with cotton candy gold fish

glittering bottle nose dolphins and sperm whales

echo locating each other’s existence,

populated its banks with palm trees and oaks

to shade all the other animals airy heads.


I created and created until the

creation created itself.

Lions became oaks,

sheep became mountains,

dogs became gods

wanting only attention

and belly rubs,

demanding all cloud creatures

know themselves only through

the smelling of each other’s asses.


It rained the last of the rain,

the last bit of piss left in their bowels,

rained until they could only poop.


I was irritated by the smell.

I was irritated by the noise.

I was irritated by how

they didn’t let me play my piano,

or continue creating my house

or not let me go to bed.


I was locked in place

and couldn’t look back.


I wanted to cover my ears

but my hands were gone.

I wanted to cover my nose

but it had broken, fallen off

into a pillar of salt.


I shouted until someone

or something heard me

and covered my mouth

with a primate hand,

stopped my ears

with a canine paw.



had stopped my creation

knowing that I hadn’t been satisfied

with what I had done

that very first day

and needed a reset.

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