what secret makes the clouds blush?
sick of being in an elevator stuck between floors
we want to carve the world at its joints
want to articulate the je ne sais pas
the words of liminality
babies aren’t born knowing the difference
between themselves and the world
between the world and everything else
but once we find one boundary
we want to find more, we thirst for edges
we want to know what is on the other side of
the endlessly tapering sky
what is past the past?
what is beyond the beyond?