Took a photo of Jupiter through my telescope
And it’s moons
And I showed it to friends and they knew of it
A portrait photo of family in some Sunday afternoon
When the world was childhood and creatures brewed

Too deep now to hold my breath to

In the curl of my hands there are
pockets of skin, matter with no more
care to matter but to grasp at straws.  
Other useless, leftover matter peels on a stomping heel or bends the heart in melancholy and forms new flower bulbs in the brain.
And the Rain.  God is Rain which
rhymes with pain.  
And the tortuous “Again”.

soul:
(((Heart)448,000mph (speed of solar system))ht)(F)/
()(G≠ God)(Gravity)
or Ocean.



ht - Heartbeats/hour
F - Friction
G - Gravitational force

soul:
(((Heart)448,000mph (speed of solar system))ht)(F)/
(G(m1m2/(r)2)(G≠ God))
or Ocean.



ht - Heartbeats/hour
F - Friction
G - Gravitational force
m1 - mass of object 1
m2 - mass of object 2
r - distance between centers of the masses

Renaissance art rigors, the designs of an accordion
Universe heaving with circuitry
(Imagine what the stars are plugged into..
We know, memory)
Designed to get me reason,
inventory and

The grass rises wild,
flowers blasting
from the poets grave but
He did dream of cosmos fisherman
and is casting.

Nights render like drawings
When we only have the charcoal chalk and
Make do with Memory...
Except for the sky, where Gods thoughts
are exploding.
I pretend my skins were sails, or
Time’s leftover stitching meant for heartstrings 
But for the bones,
Alabaster dice, stenotypewriter keys machining the
bottom taps of ribs dug up a thousand years on
And thought to carry wings