"sunspot" poems
If you are the healer lay your hands on me, I am diseased you can set me free. If you have the will I have the desire, if you collect ashes send me into the fire.
If you are the liar then I am the fool, I wanna hurt myself by being close to you.
So catapult me into the sun and I'll burn baby burn, catapult me into the sun and I'll burn just for you.
If you are the liar I am the fool I will survive to be used as your tool.
Ten pence piece lays heavy on the heart, loose change love affair that's falling apart.
so catapult me into he sun and I'll burn baby burn, catapult me into the sun and I'll burn just for you.
Breakdowns and shakedowns got me bruised by your heart, it wasn't the words it was action from the start! You are the seducer I am the user together we feed off of each other.
so catapult me into the sun and I'll burn baby burn, yes catapult me into the sun and I'll burn just for you.
Jun 13, 2016
Jun 13, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
[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.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 10:52 PM UTC
She tiptoes through the woods like a pilgrim through a cathedral
The great wooden pillars meet above in leafy arcs
Dappled light dances across the mossy carpet
The brightest sunspot,
Swirling and swaying in the rhythm
Her wide eyes close to take deep breaths
Only to have them stolen away on the breeze
I watch in a dream and she turns,
Eyes stormy with a smile playing at her lips
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 3:27 PM UTC
sunspot
sunrise
sunshine
moonshine
i lick you off my lips like strawberry
pineapple
grape juice
a fine wine that i’ve never drunk.
asteroid belt
orion’s belt
daddy’s belt
i am opening the door a crack for you only to slam it in your face—i am
waiting for you to knock
to pound your fist against the gate
to break your hand on the wood
i am waiting for you to say that you love me
and i am waiting for myself to believe it completely
(i think you do but i am still afraid you might leave me)
((jupiter has 67 moons and i think that i might be
each and every single one of them)).
oort cloud
smoke cloud
the burning ash of my father’s lit cigar flicking onto my hands
i am awake at night and thinking about how you no longer taste like lung
mouth
kidney cancer.
my grandfather almost died of prostate cancer
my friend is dying of brain cancer
my father will probably die of liver cancer
there is not enough space in the cosmos
for all of us, is there? … God?
meteorite
meteoright
i am trying to sleep without your face in the back of my neck
hand on the back of my hand
leg tangled around the back of mine
i am trying to telepathically whisper my secrets into your ears
but the only problem is that i have not yet
mastered this form of communication—
i think that everything would be so much easier if i just didn’t feel.
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 12:19 PM UTC
I marveled at every sunspot,
every freckle on your naked body.
With my fingers,
I traced them
as though I
were plotting a map,
and I had set a course
which led to your perfection.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
Let me taste the sweet dew
That envelopes the casting glow
Reflected from the summers eye
Dropped below the exile of life
To where the water once ran
Beyond where sight can see
O'er the sturdy branch of elk
Perplexed between the sunspot
Of the shadowed stump
and summers eve peach
I see your face
Catch glimpse of early morning
sunrise, sunset.
Written in every sky;
lines that vaguely shape the horizon.
Of today, tomorrow.
Outlining clouds of present fate that unravels
within my fingertips.
No longer countless petals plucked
for seemingly this day
gives answer to my dedication.
What's beyond those eyes
A tragedy? A fallen corpse?
Nothing at all.
Drunk from too much water,
Rolling behind your daunting head
the mystery of yesterday
the tragedy of today
That cracks the inside of the well
until it runs dry
Wake up
I've been waiting for you,
for the moment it all gives way
to crumble and expose
my deepest regret.
Waiting for the ground to heal itself
the stump to blossom its early *****
And embalm the diurnal course of life.
I want to push away
clear away the pain,
taste the poison distilled from your root.
And drink in today.
Retreat the core,
and bring me closer.
I can save you when I save myself.
Apr 3, 2012
Apr 3, 2012 at 12:38 PM UTC
Sock-less in the winter turned
spring for fear of
freezing over
every inch of
things you treasured and
couldn't wait to leave behind
just months to go and
still
no snow-white to
build upon blazes
that come with new faces
and
kindle friendships as
roads are
dubbed exceedingly dangerous
time is a friend to those who
tri-p-let their way to the flatness of
it all, world and walls waiting
for a
break in the traffic
waiting for a sunspot in the year's
star mural,
wandering in parking
lots where people hint at that
mysterious intersection of dreams
and the sensory
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 8:29 PM UTC
call up in spring, maybe maybe maybe
maybe,
I've caught mine in the stream:
hollow things.
hollow, hollow, seeing and free
directions, contortions
cool down, riverbeds of
flowers that sun made
in dark spot phase turning to
alive alive alive alive alive
breathing cold warm cold, nothing
any
more
ripples like the stilts feet fell through to
carve square pegs in the holes in my
skin and feign ignorance to let up
sunspot light fading writhing
keeping me alive alive
alive alive alive
all through
this gold
cursed
night
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 4:04 AM UTC
In the shadow of water
I know your true face.
not in the shadow
but in the feeling of
being in it.
…do you understand?
there’s a coolness
that wraps around me
just right,
like when evening comes
and the southern sun
finally relents its strength of illumination
to the unknowing of night.
through the shade of a wave
opaque enough to dilute
the intensity of the light
but not enough
to stop it from reaching me,
I recognize you.
who are you
that you should linger
in my inner sight
like a sunspot
staining my vision wherever I look,
changing colors
behind my closed eyes?
a stranger?
perhaps I’ve known you
in other lives.
maybe we were lovers.
maybe we were almost lovers.
maybe this is our dance.
we circle each other
like leaves in an eddy,
a brief swirl of proximity
before we’re shot back out
to the flow of the river
like children on a slide,
laughing in our innocence—
in our ignorance.
then comes the
inevitable separation,
the distance,
the peculiar ambiguity
we wear like a skin—
like a camouflage.
but I still see you,
from time to time,
behind the eyes of a stranger
and
I still feel you
whenever I am in
the shadow of water.
May 18, 2025
May 18, 2025 at 9:08 AM UTC
Blue and yellow arcs
Of pure energy,
Pure electricity,
Dance dangerous footsteps
On the thin wings
Of the butterfly.
Is it protection?
Or is it a curse?
Helpful or harmful,
Not even the butterfly knows.
The dangerous beauty
Holds audiences captive
As the energy arcs and leaps
To a tune others can’t hear.
Up and down, the wings flap
While the energy glows eerily
In the dark, (un)dreary night.
A flash of azure,
A sunspot spit out—
The black midnight body
Lit up by the light all around.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 1:53 AM UTC
For when the sun burns and turns colden,
The bright yellow spurns from beauty golden,
to a lack of interest for a system
relying on light to pour; listen
though sound travels less
in haste, it makes our bodies bounce.
For when the girl is burned and trounce
The bright mind spurned from evening gown
to a lack of interest to assist him.
He relied on her light to pour; her to listen
though sorry travels, lest
after distaste, it makes us pronounce.
For when a mistake is burned into history.
The stone cold as etched again, and sought.
Good will may be borrowed, entrusted, stolen,
but rarely bought.
For when a daybreak creeps into horizon.
The stones thrown as glass houses brought
Goodly upon their foundations,
in the naked eyes of all sunspot.
May those coloured fractals of which lurch deftly.
Return to shared ***** directly, swiftly. Freshly.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 4:37 AM UTC
I like to love her from a distance
My dear daylight poet
The sunspot
So **** hot
Tan skin
And spectacles
Smirky smile
Deep intelligence
With a certain spiritual resonance
Pulls me from the pit of despair
With her deep thoughts and kind airs
Twisting language to wondrous purposes
I like to love her from a distance
Letting her dark words wash over me
Inspire the higher functions of my creative brain
Unshackling me from the dullness of society
Inducing, immersing, and freeing me to see the beauty
In the horror of our descriptive language
Pale skin dark hair piercing eyes of creative Fury
A cold fire that inspires desire and respect
Two angels of a sort
Ying and yang light and dark
Sitting on my shoulder
Even when I say
That they are tucked away
From a safe distance
So I can love them
From within
From their words first
Watch their beauty burst
Like bloated rainbows
Breaking beams
Shooting mercilessly
Piercing me
To set me free
Not lustily
But as fellow poetic human beings
Whom I will never meet in person
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 7:19 AM UTC
I was blinded
by her brilliant light,
a wisp of a woman,
she was hotter than a sunspot,
radioactive,
she started a meltdown,
singed
my parted lips,
scorched
my searching tongue,
seared
my wanton body
& charred
my aching bone,
then left me,
burnt
to a crisp.
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
gasping, panting,
the wind penetrating my pores.
eyes watering
I dash through the morning sun
a black blur,
free and wild as a sunspot
at ten past ten
peeking past my curtains I see
a dim blanket covering the sky
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC