Monica Youn – School of the Hanged Men

nonhierarchical
anti-binary, no more

of that regimented
tedium of ebb and flow.

Your individual
pores have professed

themselves eager
for this new openness –

they’re caroling hymns
to the boundary-less

world. Sweet pandemonium
at the cellular level

as decades-old barriers
are breached. Red-tinged

fireworks constellate
every welkin, each shoreline

swamps its seawalls,
each canal shrugs off

its locks. Molecules
set forth wide-eyed

into unaccustomed vistas.
You’ll adapt just fine.

Just recalibrate
your sense of beauty.

It should be pointillist,
radically democratic.

Every deposed
despot learns to be

a citizen
of only existence.