Manual

Translate sky into flowers. Dance fire knowing it            by heart. Speak obliquely, so it takes            all my life
to understand. Use            the field as a mirror where clouds           hide their shadows. Dance            me to my own broken melody, help my           melting seconds linger, in wax            and melody. Print the world            on my heart in your            language. Write the answers            on my back, make me           writhe before a mirror         to read them.

Documentary

Two bodyguards in each cell, and a nucleus perplexed by the glinting camera lens. A tall stranger enters. A frozen angel on a snow-covered  roof remembers its childhood, dreams of an open window. Zoom out, pan left, past the liver and the heart, zoom out to a shot of the coal factory where the workers argue and the smell still assaults the nostrils. All windows in the city are closed. All childhoods have ended. The tall stranger lights a candle on the tree, knowing it will start a fire. Prepare the flowers. Fade the foul smell. All angels who didn't freeze will burn. The tall stranger exits. The snow covers everything.