They are made of stars. Made of celestial beings, ever-present and never failing to make people gape at them in awe. There’s that unwavering need - itching under my skin - of desire to be selfish. To linger my hands on their flawed, moonlit skin. To be able to cup their heavenly face, to be able to peer into their starry eyes up close; I have never kissed a constellation but I would very much like to. Maybe my love for them is planetary and astronomical and maybe all I can do is orbit around them
[NEW] Scientists know more about the moon than the ocean.
[WAXING CRESCENT] Light can only dive 200 meters down into the ocean. Below it, the “Midnight Zone” glows in the dark. (By standing in your shadow, I am hoping to become bioluminescent.)
[FIRST QUARTER] Life has a tendency to thrive in hostile environments. For this reason, Jupiter’s moon, Europa, may be able to support life within the global ocean of liquid water that is hidden beneath the ice at its surface. (This is why I am able to bloom in the dark.)
[WAXING GIBBOUS] The ocean bows to no one but the moon. Turn off the lights. Turn up the stars. Low tide wants to fold back inside itself and lap against the shores of the Sea of Tranquility. High tide just wants to be noticed.
[FULL] But a heated black body sunspot, (isolated from the rest of the photosphere), still shines brighter than the moon. Wolves should be howling at the sun instead.
written for my poetry: intermediate course. prompt: stages
venus morning star lucifer f a l l i n g backwards and forwards in time in rotation in retrograde rotation
(“the fall of lucifer” painted darkly against the bright spot in the sky) ((i see myself in the shadows beneath his tumbling figure))
light-bringer dawn-bringer the rising sun in the east a supernova exploding in the background: there are subatomic particles bigger than what i can offer there are greenhouse gasses that give off more heat than my body will ever be able to produce for anyone
day light night light the setting sun in the west a constellational birth in the foreground: there are not enough moons in the solar system there is not enough space between planetary rings to explain gravitation and the human body
(aphrodite tell me: is this sin or is this love?) ((i will dip my toes in sea foam until i deteriorate i will put my ear against conch shells until i can hear your answer))
venus evening star lucifer pouring sulfuric acid into the car vents the air ducts the atmosphere it becomes the thick dark clouds that obscure my vision of myself from reality
Enter—the transitive nightfall of diamonds. ?There are crop circles dancing in a wave on Neptune, with corn rows gleaming from the man on Mars. Tail feathers toss toward a flute near Venus. Fly me like a rainbow to the nearest star. Sirius B has nothing for me. Anunnaki women want to dig my scene. Don’t take me seriously; I’m bluffing like a rookie with a pair of queens. Moon Unit lands with a Zappa on Pluto. Yoda on Saturn plays steel guitar. Moses rides in on a doggone quasar. Captain Trips sleeps by a medicine jar. Sirius B has something for me. Hot Nibiru babes try to make my dream. Don’t greet me furiously. I’ll drop you like a comet heading to the east. Exit—the transitive nightfall of diamonds.
From, The Transitive Nightfall Of Diamonds, due out 8/14 from iUniverse books