Hours sour with humanity seizing
The sump pump of the universe
Dissolving another poet
Yet the rivers never reverse

The detonation of the human being
We are the universe when it is seeing
what becomes of light in the grasp of gravity
I long for when things were elementary

I’ve got to stop thinking of my molecules as mine I know
Its just the settling sublime explosion.  
WE LOVE THE PAST BECAUSE WE LOVE FIREWORKS
and from a distance you can more colors, deeply.  
My words kick up life like cordite and borax,
residue powders from the uneven burns
of haphazard chemistry.
That’s why you say God practices medicine.  We with alcohol do doctor
infinity
like blind painters drunk with the childishness of being.  
WE TAKE CATHEDRALS OF TREES AND MINE THEM FOR
HEARTBEATS LIKE OURS, TO HOPE TO SEE
but like Time the most Beauteous colors stew
from turpentine, smashed moths and mint leaves
and collect in rusting cans in spent houses
that rot roadside but never fall.  
They stare with the inevitability.,;:^

Sitting in a chair
Sipping coffee
Swatting at gnats
Or, the universe dancing

The morning sun stirs twilight
Never mixing or setting free
In between are the living
Burning the chemistry

You’ve got to Tumble atoms into reaction
Like playing with my wild dog
Like digging ditches or squeezing
Honeysuckle until the smell won’t wash off your fingers
Break the seals off a Twilight
That lingers

A street full of bars plays like brass instruments
adorned with leather strap grips
and a whiskey flue.  
Silver ore atoms are ****** overhead,
beaten and molested
until they are doors and hood and engine of contraptions
shilling latent souls through.