The thought of loving

Brings me to you

Who I carry in my pocket

Like a needle

*** could be joyous

Or, anticlimactic   .

Behold!
that drawing in
                 of breath
                         a minty
              entanglement
   of starlit senses
How they curl
       like the opposite
               of smoke
over the very
insides
     of my
           earthen throat
                         crackle of
       autumnal breezes          
whooshing through
like a beacon
And in that
split-second
right before
deep freeze
my molecules
   rise and fall
       in the rhythm
            of snowflakes
each one a
unique entity
   dusting the
            solid soil
                with loamy richness
                    and simultaneous
              feather impressions    
           of relief
Now
like silk draped
alabaster
I am cooled
Like sweet
        river water
  I flow
       rocked by
the slow
churn of
growing freedom
             that alights my pores
arises in tender
stillness
     through the
          looming forests
           of my skin
              penetrates the
                  unseen journey of
                     my night
                 as demulcent
          and persistent
as the balmy petals  
of a
   raging,
fiery
    bloom

A man with dragonfly wings and a ravens head interrupted a dream where the moon was dying and the sun was burning its last match
He spoke in clicks and clacks and had hooves for feet and told a story of the birth of the first star who had no father or mother
Lost and alone in an infinite darkness the star had little to do but ponder if there was any difference between reality and fiction and which one it belonged to
Did it belong to a dream or a wish or was it an illusion or a trick or was it just imagining itself and maybe it wasn't even a star
Maybe it wasn't anything at all
Maybe it was nothing more than a feverish thought of a mad god with dragonfly wings and a ravens head and hooves for feet who had murdered his mother and father
He made a noise that sounded something like a cackle and a snarl and then hovered for a moment before flying off into a blood red sky
The dream flickered back into focus and the sun had no flame or fire and the moons corpse floated out in a burning boat towards oceans end
Its last dream wrapped in velvet bandages dangled in a starless sky humming a silent song only the first star ever born could hear