To make with a font
or a life
something endless as you.
For you.
A font is a finite set of shapes.
A life is a finite set of shapes.
Pink glass,
blue bullets.
I point
at what I want with my lips.
What I want?
The prosperity
of the wicked
for the just.
To be just.
And prosperous.
A man in uniform
presses a hot iron
to a bullet
set on a naked man’s chest.
The bullet is finite.
The naked man
is finite. Pointed lips
and red glass. Which is a liquid,
it flows over time.
Liquid uniforms,
wicked font.
What I want
is time, endless as you.
And terrible as all this.