“What does it mean to be alive?”

I will ask you quietly,   

irises of the lightest hue,  

as if this – the simplest question –

why the sky is –

meanwhile, my throat will be 

bleeding – in my head 

I couldn’t stop screaming –

chords snapped, voice lost,

wishing I was a whale

of the universe – see – my call

sailing to the ends of 

infinity, searching for 

the seed –