• Vol. 07
  • Chapter 11
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When is a door not a door?

There is a window to another world
If you come to my door
It's a jar
It's a-jarring reality
On these bright, sleepless nights

I’ll pluck off the flies
As I dig up my roots
Dig-then-dice them up
Then feed them to Grandma
Who sits by my jar

Night bleeds into day
Beetles play, I collected them
There is a window to another night sky
There, there, now; can’t you see
I caught it in my jar

I’ll dice up the roots
I’ll dice up the windows and worlds and words
I’ll dice up those bugs too
Feed them to the old woman who sits by the door
Feed them to the mountains
Feed them to my bright blue future