No brain,
  Brainstorm.
Storm door,
  Door opens,
Opens mind,
  Mindset.

Set tone
  Set mood,
Set themes
  Setting,
Set words
  Set stanzas.
Set backs?
  Set match.

Match Mix
  Patch fix
Large risks
  Lines brisk
Heart ticks
  Beats quick.
Darwinist
  Poetry is.

With regards to Thomas Sayers Ellis*

Look at the
    Lucent lava lamps,
Dark craters
    Hiring hands.
We walked,
    Mimicking magma.
Hot, why is
    This heat?
Forget Vulcan
    And his illusion
Of kaleidoscopes,
    A rip tide
On the shore
    Of our conscious minds.
We held fire,
    Pretending to swim
Underground,
    But only out
Of pure respect.
    Some had boots
Made with
    The clippings
Of funky tripwire,
    Others wore suits
With goggles
    Clamped to their faces,
Gripping like
    Bay Area earthquakes.
One-by-one,
    Jang-strangs were
Attached to us and
    Hurled into the Pit
With rhythmic rituals,
    Waves of S and P
Flailed away
    Like flags.
One nation
    Under a new.
No one looked away
    From the fiery daze.
No one wept.

These are all just bad beginnings
in my search for a show-stopper,
a jaw-dropper,
trying to be just the right balance
of sarcastic and lovely,
the right balance of writer
that I idealize and am not,
of course,
what am I, a narcissist?

I'm trying to put into words
the feelings I told you I danced
because they are wordless (spaceful)
and because of you
I have to say them with voice;
what a dilemma is this--

That when I tell you with movement
what I can't say
you put me in the place
of having to voice it and now
I have no words
other than bad beginnings.

So is that it?
When I word to you
instead of dance for you (for me?)
what you have to return is a nothing,
a less-than-nothing saying,
saying nothing, leaving me

hurt and confused because
maybe there was a something
in all your nothing that I can't find--
because we are dealing in words now,
and I'm a movement reader.

And I know I will forgive you for this
but I won't forgive me for knowing that.

Even while I'm still so angry, it just reveals
my pathetic (patient?) desperation for your love,

But I didn't say this right.
I need to move (dance) this.

We're all cruising on the same highway
Persueing a car busy chasing the one ahead
Whilst we're being chased ourselves.
We refuse to be caught, we've been driving for too long to give up now.
But so has the person in front of us.
You're never getting off this nightmare drive.

Blinded by the idea that the car ahead will slow down
we became oblivious to how much life we've wasted
wasted on someone that's busy wasting theirs on someone else
not realizing someone else is wasting theirs on us

A simple yet brutal cycle.

Just let some fool overtake you.
Take an empty road.
You don't know what could happen next but the only way to find out is to hit the accelerator and go.
You're in control now.

"Will you pray with me"
All heads bowed and all eyes shut
But I did not close my eyes
So I wouldn't miss the sun slipping over the horizon to nestle under a bed of deep pink and purple blankets
More of a glimpse of the divine than anyone else saw in that moment
All of them focused on the blank dark screens behind their eyelids
Searching for a God that was right before my eyes