We live in tiny hells with beautiful lights
next to our various and sundry boredoms
blithely blithering the hawkish day
out of the clouds and into the fray.
we have no mute agendas.
we celebrate in a cauldron
of our aspirations, with our arrows to the cause
and our eyes on the contrary.

sleep is never as keen as awake too much.


so we live in tiny hells with beautiful lights
and believe that everywhere
all things are not defined but divine,
but **** it,  we don’t know how
to be less blind with
so many eyes
at the same time

staring at fumes.

Loving you all day is exhausting and hilarious,
the way you swerve into rapture when i kiss you
and return suspended in joy when our eyes lock
beneath the seeing of Ourselves Naked,
your laughing eyes are not a quandary. but better yet
an answer to a prayer
i forgot.

But
how we bake bread with snow
is our secret.

and
Love is
not.

hope is a drug i used to take.
now the miracles I pantomime
are half asleep, and tomorrow
is a dog i can’t keep.
but i can keep the howl.
i can keep some impossible things
but alas, the freakish memories
will be suspect… and all the arrows of Time
will cleave the apple of my
distracted mind,

i was defective immediately.
born among the throng of imps
in the Imperium of Last Things.
i was made from a husk of “ Almost There”
and i bench press Oblivion
by the ton.

you’re like a little bird with hurricane teeth.
your song is all wrong but your wings;
now they simply defy the gravity
of your stone heart.
i lived beneath you enough to know
you had devoured the sky
i met you in.

now we’re nowhere.
and i bet
not even
then.

a mouthpiece me. the supreme Will whispers
and I say things…. I go where the going arrives
and nothing is approachable
just a batwing in a cave
with glow worms
in my mind,

II

let’s be beautiful for once.
or ourselves
or Nothing at all
forever.

as if the flowers were all asleep and knitting mud ***** _
and perfect spheres. the universe cajoled the Ambassador to Sorrow -
to come forth with a horse's wing and a heavy breath...
a true lover that is sworn to sunshine
and a unicorn eating the meat of a diamond.
all this must be. or the world;-
flounder on a picket fence -
of a lost mind...
and a long stretch of reach
in a stunted growth of
RealLife.

the rain wept because the cosmos was full of Lies
with a capital ' L '.
deflated by default, but willing to take One
for The Team of wild horses; that carried the thunder-
to your precious Dawn; in the first place.
to outwit the Heresies
of a misadventure
with an Ode
To Choice!

of course, the plane eats
a mountainside
just sitting on
the cat.

and you're gonna
look at me

as I walk through
You.