before we met,
i was living my death:
you became my valkyrie.
(if only i could say this
and know it as reality.)

most people leave an impression on me
like footprints in the sand,
washed away by the waves that encroach over time.
you're more like the meteorite
that wiped out the dinosaurs:
you re-cast the dice of my world.

i've heard it said:
we keep a special place in our hearts
for those who refuse to be impressed by us.
every time you like a poem
that isn't one i wrote in hope of ensnaring you,
i become slightly more obsessed.

so i woke up the next morning
and everything
had worked itself out overnight,
so a happy ending was in store after all:
a report from fantasy land.

i'm undone,
thank god and all the ******* angels
in heaven, and fallen ones too:
i'm undone
before your endless, ecstasy-emitting body.
these ruins of the future
are a paradise
in this riveting flux; consecrated and desecrated,
made seraphic and savage
in the undulating ebb and flow of our flesh.

what would it take
to capture you, just for a moment?
were it as simple as a sacrifice,
my life might be in danger.

what could i say that i am?
by the time the raindrop is
illuminated,
by the fulmination from zeusian bolt,
it is already no longer
itself.
its every relation pours into this world,
sustaining this green world,
sustaining this vanishing world
lit up like our raindrop.
and what if light was merely the shell
of darkness?
in any case: there's much to do, and much that can be seen
before the next sets of species make a home of our cities.