night bursts open
egg sack spills
tadpoles wriggling
dead light
no Eye

keep screaming.
there's no sound in space.

bite me,
so you did.

with pine slivers
plucked from vertical thrones by an unpolished stone,
you plunged
(hapless heathen),
becoming the ripple that would knock charon to the floor.

the ark bowed down,
drenching us all in the needles of your sunken oar.

torn free from the ground of
pregnant ideas and withered
internal dialogues.

aloof in the face of destiny, crying
for refuge among the disowned,
the dismembered, the disinterested.  i
alone exist in the maelstrom of abstraction
crafted painstakingly through my ages
and seasons.

a mind as sharp as mine
to raise me without feathers
and place me
among the mulch.

i blanket my canvas with
woes and worries alike, neglecting
the foul-mouthed begotten son
arranged among the pillars left standing.

crooked trees and iced stone to
vibrate
through these ears of clay.  

i miss the days of youthful
ignorance and exuberant hope shot at my
future like a cannon of pride
and confidence.  

today the final summer flowers exhale
notes of sweet becoming, ever mingling
with the hum of nature's eternal embrace.  
the bodies celestial in ambiguity spin and
swirl in irrevocable sincerity.  from rise to
fall, through night and naught, the world
recurs again to weave itself anew.

the last
vestiges of my
terminal romance
are sputtering out

God is blowing
smoke rings
around my heart

the people that feign
caring talk
about fish
and
the sea

one workday is
followed by
many more
of the same

and the
days off

never
last

the closeness of
my soul is
upon me
with the
right music

the body eats
and eats
and
eats - i can't
help but
feed it

the heart cries
and sings
between each
stranger it lets
in

madness encircles me
like a kettle
of raptors

my spirit reeks
of death
and
the genesis birthed
from it

the greatest
opportunity to
develop and
grow beyond
my tired limitations

i am not
done yet . . .