If I'm made up of starstuff
Recycle me
Strip me
You're wasting me
Let me be
Nothing
Dust
Put me in the center of the universe
In a vast nothing
Of every beautiful  little thing
That I don't understand
And leave me there
Let me keep my eyes

'Tis in the darkest hour that

... shines so on one's heart path:

Where who, what, when, how,

Where, and sometimes why,

Yet, never Y2K, are unanswered

By the you that is to be, whilst gleaned.  



Then, not receding from reality,

Evolving lights one's footsteps

That followed none, leaving no trace

And saving the human race,

Which echo on forever, in all ways, always.

Even shadows speak of the light.

Mumble through a labyrinth world--

A cacophonous lyre's stringing.

Sheep in wolf's clothes--

Are half as dangerous--as

My sorry symphony.

In the tiger-fur rarity of your singing, ember-sky eyes

Ghost stars crumble their memories over morning.

The trickster god pays respects when we smile our mutual challenges--

Crosses her rays from one side of earth to the next,

Looking for a collision.

the bow of your back, taut
sweat sticky
opiated and fizzing,the air stirs
and does not settle
the garden caged between your ribs
cracked and sprouting,paint
fumes sputtering out of your
fingertips,wild
unruly kind of-
give and take,sway
bring me to my knees kind of
hurricane

the bow of your mouth, sweet
spit tacky
thunderous and crowing,skin
smelling of smoke and apples
the starstuff wrapped in your fist
aching and bruised,your knuckles
purpling and swollen,wild
unruly kind of-
give and take,sway
bring me to my knees kind of
hurricane

even in the shadows
of your love
i can still see
the stars that fall
from your eyes,
i hear your heartbeat
and i know
that although i am lost
you are here
in the darkness with me
and so the dark
doesn't feel so bad.

Fading away, like a music.
No jolts, no sadness.
Just a beautiful face.
Religious sacrement is ambiguous.

Failed priests. Another age.
But why would you sacrifice?
Offering instant gratification
to the masses.
Malicious intent is still intent.
Another dimension. Another reality.
Goodbye.

Who do I listen to?

Perhaps you should have stayed
silently, creating something
special with your studies.
Build your wealth,
employ your sciences only with
amazing goals. Ah, my brain.

Must charter the universe.
There is no web, there is no
spider weaving. Only matter.

Matter and history.
Learn from us, your bitter
ancestors, the sweep of evolution.
The great story, you martyr.
You seem reluctant.

The shores, they lick at your
ankles. Salt deposits and foam.
All that is, or ever was.
Contemplations stir.

Leave us alone, without our
sensations of grandness.
I need not your preaching,
your sadness, your dust.

Tiny planetary moulding rock.
Simply dangerous and promising.
Why must I trust another speck
with my entire life? My fate?

It is my own truth, filled with
speculations and masturbations.
Exquisite relationships only
fill me with tainted deepness.

Some part of me knows.
That Ocean is entirely my body.
Starstuff and dust.
My journey begins in my skull.

Tapping my temple, I pull apart
the dandelion puff and bite
the bitter milk.
The blood, plants scream when they
are plucked.

Their juices are not for such as I.
First voyages and scienctists
are better than my own cries.
The depths of embedment are vast.

Birth, live, death, tumultuous.
Jets of energy, my core is
incinerated.
Detroy all in our path.
A splash in my pond, step, step.
A ring, your iris it shines.

Holy local groups, I find.
Containing island chains.
Only 2 million years from home.
Passing over our satellites.

No more writing, no more stars.
Gravity prevails and globes unite.
Centres are millions strong,
like a swarm, a sun, the bee has
stung.
Impossible to stuff the guts.

Spiralling in nothingness.
Arms turn, turn away. Turn from
my face. Curdles outside.
Our home is orange and wide.
Blue in the obscure waters, we
have evolved.

Such intelligence is no indication
that any edge-on view is right.
Please, don't tell me what to believe.

do Orion and
the Pleiades
ever gaze at
you and me?
for we are what
they hope to be,
begot by stars,
a conscious sea,
and even pain
means we feel things

darling,

lift that fingertip away from your scars
and trace these ragged map-lines instead
here, here are better roads to take
than loneliness

so maybe your knuckle feels much too bare
but know that our fingers are not made to sit waiting
for a ring –
they are built to hold

so hold – find another set of fingers
grasping for a stronger pair of hands
there is nothing more beautiful than two small limbs
making a home in each other

or better yet, when your bones feel
too big for his too-full arms and too brittle
for the weight of your sadness
hold yourself together, never let go

when the night is too full of night
to see the stars, take a mirror and try to
search for the starstuff in you

you. the point between history and tomorrow
the most graceful of reckonings
the steady hum of *more, more beneath cracking skin
you. the sum of all things soft and true  

and remember: those bones were never built to
shoulder the world
they were only ever meant
to carry you

There are tongues
hidden away
inside cabinets,
fingers pressed
between the floorboards,
members ******
into dresser drawers --

You caressed them
lovingly,
every tooth
and freckle
turned over
in your memory,
you play them over
as you sleep

And every
once in awhile,
their faces
gulp to life
beneath your chest,
and maybe
your heart beat
quickly
for a moment,
and you whispered
to yourself:

thank god,
this day
has finally
come

--

His kindergarten
dreams
his sugar sweet
mouth
his cream soft
tongue,
they succumbed
to you like beasts
trapped beneath
the riverbed

You let them float,
dry tongues hang out
between bloodied lips,
you touched their lips
in the darkness
and the dance
continued
until morning

And later, caught
up in the nightmare
you stared into
the sky. Maybe
the full moon reached
out and touched you,
maybe you smiled

But you said,
thank god;
thank god I am
the man I am

--

And something made you,
starstuff shaped and twisted
until they formed those fingers,
those hands those eyes
the brows that would furrow
in the darkness of that closet

until it came down
over your head
and as the memories
surged through
your mind?

I hope they
came first,
one wailing scream
pushing
through your heart
before you succumbed

thank god,
thank god