Stooti's Poem of the Day

Born on Monday and a tiny world-containing grain of light passed through each eye like heaven through a needle. And on Tuesday he screamed for a small ear in which to hide. He rolled on Wednesday, rolled his whole body full of immense salt spaces, slowly from one horizon to the other. And on Thursday, trembling, crippled, broke beyond his given strength and crawled. And on Friday he stood upright. And on Saturday he tested a footstep and the sky came down and alit on his shoulder full of various languages in which one bird doesn’t answer to another. And on Sunday he dreamed he was flying and his mind grew gold watching the moon and he began to sing to the brink of speaking