The sky going round. The rainbows in chains. All you do is blame indigo. What dove have you loved? What sparrow has loved you? And yet you never say hi. I am a chain of rainbows. In my agony I curse my inner sky. I am the undead rainbow. I am a fool and I believe the lies of indigo. Then Monday comes. Like the ark of a javelin I must write a poem. In retribution I drag my futility and plow the illusion called earth. This...