Slow progression towards the surface
Of the sky, the sea, the birds, and the eye
Which sees nothing, but shows
Us a parade of colours in disarray.

Is that good enough for you?
Spinning with the crowd, and
Mindlessly mimicking their ubiquitous movements-
Righteously upholding "the peace
That you deserve," they say.

Two legs have always been baa-ad.

Dehydrate my bones and
Sprinkle the crumbs over a deliciously
Warm winter dessert, creamy
In the centre like surprise ice
Floating above the tide.

Do I melt in your mouth
The way he did?
Your memories of me now are just

Strange dreams
That remind you of
My ashes.

Preacher, don't send me
when I die
to some big ghetto
in the sky
where rats eat cats
of the leopard type
and Sunday brunch
is grits and tripe.

I've known those rats
I've seen them ****
and grits I've had
would make a hill,
or maybe a mountain,
so what I need
from you on Sunday
is a different creed.

Preacher, please don't
promise me
streets of gold
and milk for free.
I stopped all milk
at four years old
and once I'm dead
I won't need gold.

I'd call a place
pure paradise
where families are loyal
and strangers are nice,
where the music is jazz
and the season is fall.
Promise me that
or nothing at all.

There was once a light bulb
That illuminated the room.

Its voltage tore through my skin,
But I smiled through the searing pain.

Time wore it down
Because He gripped too tightly-
And it began to flicker.

It would grace me with its lovely presence,
Stingily and briefly,
Then drape me in darkness the next moment.

The intervals graduated and distanced.

I was beginning to think that I would never see the light again.

Then the day came
When the light bulb consumed itself whole,
Along with all the light that it brought.

I was right,
But I did not want to be.

My dearest,
I will miss you
After the morning light takes you away.

But honesty bespeaks my boredom of
Nakedness on ******,
Thrusting into you,
The screams of your pleasure-
It was satisfactory.

The soft scent of your spangled hair
As it ran playfully through my fingers
While I cradled your skull in my palm when
I caught the glitter of your smile as our bodies undulated
Through the oceans and across the galaxies
Where you dipped your toes into the cosmic pools
Before diving into the depths with me-  
then,
I felt you quiver.

Of all the arrows in the world, yours only was
Precise and lethal to the bone;
Searing straight through my universe and
Pulling it apart

To reveal not darkness, but merely the absence of light.
In it, I was not afraid.

Sprawled across the canvas was not ink.
It was not acrylic, neither chalk, nor charcoal-
It was nothing tangible
To the eyes that could not see.

And so I began to tell them about her;
Her bristles of part oxygen, mostly nitrogen, which led me
And taught me how to be free
And to be present- without actually being there.

I told them about how
She didn't know I was well-versed
In the art of being invisible, so

I taught her how to rebel
And to silently suffocate
And to do it without getting caught-

"That's enough,"
"But I wasn't finishe-"
"Sit!"

But I did not.
I sneered at Tom's pet lizard,
I stood proud before my class
Holding her, and bowed.

If I could hold the words you spoke,
I'd keep them in my palms
and nobody would ever see those creases again.