I don't belong here,
Got to get away;
Poet, close your eyes:

The fire at the head of a verse
Takes me where verbs and stars
Collide,
(And the girl whose ancient name
Is fire)
Black rose consoler of sorrows,
My worries ride the sky today,
      Brilliant nocturnal fool
      I can see all the words escape
      A collision with atmosphere,
Flocked with hope
It gathers steam towards
The kiss of the quarter moon;
Your name is HOPE.
   I nail my dreams to sky black
   Bridging the gaps in the abyss,
   I catch a ride with the tail
    Of a comet's tears
   And endure its loneliness like
   A broth of nourishing sacrifice:

     "Take my hand dear poet,
    Your words are embers
     On a midsummer harvest"
    And the world froze beneath
     It's cylindrical tail
      As the wheel of days did not
     Revolve;

I became a solar sorrow,
My dreams burst into sunflowers
In a flame of words
Bursting itself from my soul,
Each night as the world
Becomes too much,
I escape and the poem takes
Me away.