This was shot in St. Vitus Cathedral in Prague.
I remember floating on my back
in a saltwater pool in Pennsylvania:
I was looking up at my brother.
"It tastes like shit," I said,
handing back the Marlboro he had given me
and picking up my Flor Dominicana.
"But it's about the way it makes you feel," he told me.
And it occurred to me that we're all just smoke,
expanding further outward to cover
stranger and emptier skies
in a spectacular expenditure,
despite profound interior contractions, emulsions,
a white and gray contradiction subsisting in
a plane of continually decreasing gravity
and plainly predictable wind patterns