in this
pocketful
        of limbo
          the distance rises
               in curls of smoke
        a prairie fire
siphoning into
crisp edge
           of forest
          Inside my
uncloaked ventricle
primeval forces
turn my blood into
dusted gold
as they pump
        sacred texts
into my oxygen
      They roll your quintessence
upon my fingers,
            playing inside
     my psyche's  
wild ache
a spread of orifice
in spellbound mantra,
       as I spit out
          the
            hairy thorns,
a holy purge of
   internal
        engravings
    
Somehow ---
like a miracle,
I grow ripe seedlings
from deep within
            my womb
as I trip into
a universe rising
I take wisps
of your grace
as it brushes
the jut of my
astral collarbone
You are always
         grounding me
                    like this,
               my tongue
              tripping
         over velvet
stance of warrior
        assuaged into silk
    
        Without you,
I might be
whisked off into
the periphery
of chaos
but instead
       I am simply
tied to
      the urgency
of the little novas
about to
        explode

While I wait
            I tend to
              the wildfires.
     to make sure they
                   are still burning
I keep my honey
wet and fresh
upon your
                   lips,
let my pores
drip moonpools
    into your glistening
wet of mouth
and only when
          it is time
I let the whole of
           me burst
into the
      fire -wrapped
tips of
   stars

My first name
Ripped, screamed, slammed
Out of calm air
just before impact

Sounds like trays of silverware
being dropped on linoleum,
The crash in the restaurant kitchen
That stops the dining room

Smoke and steam erupt
From the maimed car hood,
Crescent bent steering wheel
Speedometer needle frozen at fifty-one

Squirming out of windows
Because the doors
are crushed closed

We buried our illegal treasures
Somewhere near a plowed field
Underneath the scraped bridge

No need to panic
Only until the grapey blood  
Runs over my brow

The windshield was molded
With the impression
Of a bowling ball

We saw a slip of hairy scalp,
a wet potato chip crisping
in the sun

The kids at school drew
peace signs and *** leaves
On my mummy-wrap bandage

Ten years later
I look in the mirror
At a fasten seat belt sign
Of a scar

Luck is Doubt’s
Next door neighbor

Roam phantoms
of my little
lost self,
Playing, running
around the apple trees

Happy is
the laughter
of my twin sister

Through the kitchen
window Mom fixes
dinner

Her smile bastes
the turkey
for Thanksgiving

Roam phantoms
of my little
lost self,
Playing, running
around the apple trees

Now
the fallen apples
rot on the ground

The backyard
of my past
is sullen wet
with leaves

What is sleep when
My own shadow
Won’t even confront me?
Scream all you’d like
I still won’t look at you