We turned the sun
into a scourge

Burned two cities in Japan.
It was not antiseptic.
It was not friendly.

It was ****** on a scale
that the world
has come to know too well
but by a means
that upset the balance
of nature

The magnetic forces
of the atom unhinged
set off on lunatic paths
to arrive at something
like the sun

Flesh was peeled from bone
that day
faces peeled from skulls

This is not a pretty thing
not a bedtime story
for your kids

Yet our taxes pave a path
to the next generation
of hell-found missiles
aimed deliberately
and directly
at the hopes
the domestic fears
the quiet anxieties
the moments of wonder
of love
the kiss in the morning
goodbye
the welcome home in the evening
of every person alive today.

Is there a way
to say
No?

The size of the world
never changes
and yet
there are times
when it feels
so very big,
or maybe
it's just me,
feeling so
incredibly
small,
so
incredibly
small  
that i wonder
if I might slip
through the cracks..
and disappear
entirely

Mud on her cheek
she catches crab
by the narrow creek

her frame is sleek
skin saline drab
bone rickety weak.

She makes no show
tides only know
taste of her knee

her hair's knotty lock
makes the wind to talk
feel her slowly.

Why I can't tell
on the mind's sail
she stirs a song

I find her so fair
upon a moment there
then she's gone.

Audience of billions, billions of years old.
The blanket covering us, keeping us cold.
A veil of blue during the day.
Without being asked, you go away.

The desolate forest in the sky.
Before and beyond mortality's rate.
Watching as our lives go by.
What do you want from this endless wait?

Pathetic and empty the heavens would be.
Without your shining splendor to see.
We are the children that wish upon you.
Yet our granted pleads are far and few.

Empty, quiet, void of fear.
The perfect place for us to disappear.

there is a universe inside your chest
infinitely expanding
though infinitesimally slow
at times
boundaries stretch, breathe
though confusing at times
destruction feeds growth,
dichotomous paradox forms whole,
stars implode, give way to supernovas,
give way to planets filled with lava and snow
there, inside, a universe
constantly churning,
the incessant spin of all burning
that births light and shadow

here I stand on the precipice.
here, in an amorphous dusk and dawn,
unclear if day or night
is about to kiss the horizon
unsure if I should call to moon or sun
or neither,
or    you.
here in limbo, arching my spine to
sneak under the guardrail of loving
here, instinctually shoving myself
into bottlenecks and genie lamps
oh, how my gypsy soul wants to run,
yet feels so enchanted it stays, here
on the precipice,
itching to gain entrance
into the universe brimming
inside of you

there
there, inside your chest
there I said it.     and I'll say it again,
and I'll say it even louder:
I confess! I'm enchanted!
I'm enamored, enthralled, enraptured,
I want my heart
to know your heart,
I want to dive chest-first into your outer space galaxy nest
an astronaut without a helmet,
I want to explore, awestruck
never trying to label, box, or understand - simply experience
your universe

there, I finally said it
I'm finally starting
to write the poems I'm afraid of,
the ones I don't want to say out loud
I'm starting to write out shadows and solar flares and floods,
starting to let my heart bleed out of my pen, cause
what the hell am I hiding from?
what are we all so scared of?
we were ****** into this strange world
blind and wet,
groping in the darkness for heaven
meant to rip ourselves open again, again
meant to feel with the depth and tempest of oceans
meant to risk and be fools and fall to meet rose-hued ends

I just want to make love with the light
of a thousand candles, a million stars, and the moon turned on
and panting
silver dripping from her tongue,
dizzy with the heat of solar undulations,
stripping down to the heart of the matter
down to the simple truth of it all:
I was born to feel,
and my god, you...
you make me feel universes
you make me feel thunder and lightning and bedroom churches and power surges
you make me feel sunrise stillness
and it makes me fall silent.
so here I am, writing the poems I'm afraid of
and sending them out, messages
in bottles, adrift
in the endless oceans of your universe

I might be a budding botanist.

You see I watch you take root
in the back of my mind,
while your deepviolet dreams
flower up from behind.
With my withering construct
and green disposition
your ivy league discord
leaves fetid pollution.
my limbs aren't strong enough
to hold you at bay
so I'm prone to let grow on me
whatever you say
these seedlings sap strength
and succor my faults
i could fight back
but what use against this garden gestalt
i am tripping on lilacs
or maybe just lies
and its only a matter of time
till we die
so im keeping my footing
my head above water
and were i a fish
not a lamb to the slaughter
my frame it grows thin
growing gaunt, growing weak
and i cant help but feel
this is what you would seek
then i cant help but feel
i was wrong, and so then
i will try not to go
about feeling again

So today, I think, I
will simply search out my own people.
The thinkers, believers,
soothsayers speaking in acrylic discrepancies
between what is and what will,
what might and ought but won't as long as.

It's so simple, they say.
Just apply yourself daily
and try not to sway
lest your habit break.
Then striped of practice,
you take up your vows again.
Simple, it seems.
Except that I'm swearing daily
"**** all this!
Tropes and tricks!
There's no ease here.
How could there be?
Baring me scarcely seems
to meet the measures
of rarely seen wear and tear
but these **** seams are holding true."

Remember you have only to apply
once daily doses of madness and hope.
If memory serves, it's these
worthwhile self-service tricks
that have woven our sails.
Drink the seas. Come and capsize.
You'll finally meet me.