Whether you’re cutting up honeyed luscious pie
trying to put youself in goddamn eternity,
or dividing by nil, calculating pi
with unlimited accuracy, reciting insanity,

you are lonesome here, forgetting superfluous words
forgiving void in the middle of crying festival.

Thanks to the gestures, I see gleams of splashing swords
in hands, holding crow quill to survive, to aestivate.