Jackal in his church pants,
Bad kid with punk jams,
Cramming nonsense in his conscience,
Skateboarding prophets,
Dividing light into chambers,
Bag of **** for his neighbors,
Turned into a living demon bleeding thru the paper,
Applesauce in the inside,
A coconut shell for the front,
Pineapple knives for the slaughtering,
Right into a strawberry's gut,

He was not a normal scorned, occulting youth,
But the lore of a regretful teen plaguing the afternoons,
Till that strawberry gut cracked his coconut noggin,
And shall he rest in bygones and Hanna-Babara monsters,

Silver mirror of our Earth and Sun,
I rise to meet you tonight.
Across turquoise and sea-green clouds
and through a pale mist shining.

Occulting the dawn and inventing a new day,
a sunrise in the night,
Gently piercing the curtains of rain
The quiet observer, silver-white.

You are the glimmering widow
Spinning twilit cobwebs
along the meadows of perse dusk.

You rose from the ocean
Brine cascading down your face
And a sea-salt storm came to be.

You are that which defines the day
and you create the night,
embracing the Earth, and giving meaning to life.