your authority--
power to command the storm!
is my only aim

its you, its you
its always you
why can't it ever be something else?
someone else
anything
everything
but you
always
and for never

hello ebb
mystic waves with
a rhythmic crash
off sandy shore
spring forth
bubble and oxygen orbs
foam and burst
gurgle up
toward the crest
little silver sliver
spoon in mouth
maybe this will tip the scale
a numbness captivation
from sensory deprivation
hum bliss
barely on board
I am here

a single moment
and suddenly I am here
perhaps all at once

its a heaviness
like muscles tight after
sixty minutes of cardio
inside my lungs
removed from the heart
pounding
but empty
in an cavernous space
large enough
to echo through the void
the accelerating thud
that holds me in its claws
clenching then releasing
me into nothing
I am pieces
my soul
longs for an occupant
and beams
like a neon
sign that flickers
"vacant"

the sun erupted from the skyline
spat sunbeams into the valley

and scorched trees with amber, auburn, alloy orange
a grounded autumn rainbow

quiet fog exhaled over a placid lake
and bordered the wall of an angry tree line

crinkled leaves floated downward leaving branches
bare as dead limbs outstretched in praise

mountain spine laid in jagged ribbons
once ****** from Earth’s chiseled core

cut into the horizon’s curvature
larger than life, and twice as wide

As a rock in circulation, longing for self-revelation
In equilibrium with a world
Of green hues and ethereal blues
A smattering of milky way white
Clouding my perspective
Your presence,
a late yellow sun with a warm hello
I only see darkness
Certainly, light radiates from somewhere
The moon, surface deep with dents and craters, I
a lackluster comparison to thermodynamic creation
The energy you spawn, I merely respond
Our existence in tandem
The age of the earth
Irrelevant
Yet I revolve
and you evolve
Changing, shifting
day to night, new beginnings
A hazy sunrise and fresh dew mornings
Birthed as night gives way
Perhaps, a therapeutic realization
But stars still exist
As a hundred billion crises  
Screaming from their unnamed existence
longing to be as original as the moon
Saturn after all, has 62