1705

Volcanoes be in Sicily
And South America
I judge from my Geography—
Volcanos nearer here
A Lava step at any time
Am I inclined to climb—
A Crater I may contemplate
Vesuvius at Home.

This is the Last Straw –
and Something About Sacred Buckets of Holistic Ice Water

****** predators, human smugglers
Starvation in the Sudan, civil war
in Syria, mass executions in China
Journalists murdered almost everywhere
Fashionable infanticide, homelessness
Unemployment, urban terrorism
Mass ******, school shootings, wildfires, racism
An unstable national government
Anti-Semitism, border desperation
Riots, arson, ecclesiastical corruption
****, alcoholism, historical cleansing
Skinheads, abuse, Khardassianistas
Volcanos, the death penalty, free verse
Affluenza, Jerry Springer, The View
Herbal tea, antifa, anti-antifa
And the soul-******* existential despair
Of inspirational singer-songwriters:

Nah, not a bit worried about plastic straws

But I must go now; The Voices are telling me
To pour a bucket of ice water over my head
(As long as it’s not a plastic bucket)

There are times in life
when a man needs change,
And I don't mean,
dimes and quarters.

Remember when you
were just sixteen,
Driving all alone, solo,
in your old man's Buick?
All the windows down,
radio music blaring,
Your bare arm draped
out over the side of the door.
to better exhibit your bicep.

Hell mister, no doubt,
you were ten feet tall,
the king of the road.
Ever wish you had,
that feeling back again?

Cars were always my thing.
I owned some Detroit
Muscle, Full blown Chevy,
Firebird 400, Chrysler Hemi.
Smoked some tires and
went to Court a time or two.
Of course all that was long
ago in my fitter youth.

When I became a Yuppie
I acquired a Poodle Puppy,
a Porsche and a MGB.

But the ***** does turn.
and so then, did I,
And my road got,
a little bumpy.

Along came marriage,
then a baby carriage.
And a big house
In the Burbs.

Then came a progression
Of Volvo Station Wagons,
to Soccer Dad Mini Vans,
to large SUV's.
All for hauling,
any number of things.
Kids and dogs, strollers,
bikes, kites and scooters,
Fellow car poolers,

And less we forget,
"Pulling" things too.
Boats, RV's, Utility trailers,
and all nature of landscape,
gardening, and general
shopping paraphernalia.
Little League Teams,
Drooling big dogs,
Papier Mache Volcanos.
Home Coming Floats,
Once even a Goat
You name it, I hauled it,
Or pulled it!

Years rolled by,
eventually the Kids
flew the nest, got married.
And low and behold,
The wife and I split,
Each going our separate way.
No one's fault, just grew apart.
The thinly veiled allegorical
Previous Patriarchal
arrangement became,
A whole new start,
A workable self allegiance
to just one.

Soon once more, I was the MAN.
I ran out, bought a **** boat
But not having the kids around,
Soon sold it, having found out,
that alone, I was not a water sport.

I caroused around, dated women,
got my pockets picked,
learned a few lessons.
Fell in love, fell out again,
Took a few pretty good blows,
Right on the chin,
Even some down lower.

Round about then,
An Epiphany kicked in.
Remembered my most,
ennobling, happy events,
behind the wheel,
driving Dad's Buick.

As I stepped on the lot.
There was never doubt,
There was only one choice,
I just had to have that,
Little VW Bug Red Racer.

Nothing like your Mother's
Beetle, the engine's up front,
Not stuck in the trunk,
And man it produces over,
200 Big Time Horsepower
Not to mention,
Lays rubber in three,
Of six gears.
Getting all the while,
33 miles per gallon.

Receiving additional help,
from a sweet Turbo Booster,
Just like a big, Indy Track Bruiser.

There's 19 inch racing
tires and alloy wheels,
They look so cool,
Spinning in motion.

Dual stainless steel exhausts,
And best of all,
a cool collapsible,
Convertible top.

Rack and Pinion steering,
Handles like a sports car,
Yet still offers a backseat
To take my Grandkids,
out for a spin.

Dude, it's got,
All the bows
and whistles!

Top Down Driving is such a thrill,
Makes me feel sixteen again.
The open road, the sky above,
The wind blowing thru my hair,
what there is left of it.

Perhaps the only thing that
Could possibly make this
Driving experience greater,
Would be to speed down,
The road, going eighty,
Behind the wheel of my
Little Red Racer,
Completely **** naked,
And of course all the while,
Feel the wind in my hair.

I don't know, I'm too old,
To call this a mid life crisis.
But on the other hand,
Maybe the acquiring of
This little red sporty car,
Has something to do with,
Those Testosterone shots I'm taking.
I'm even thinking, of dying my hair,
naw, lets not get crazy!

after that i'll let you wear my kneecaps for
prayer after that pagan harlot of a wife told me
it didn't rain because i wasn't a good enough ventriloquist
to her schizophrenia. i mean: **** just never stops!
(i actually like this line, apologies for vain-thought).*

"68% of Canadians respondent said that minorities
should be doing more to fit into mainstream society
instead of keeping to their own customs and languages..."

53% of American dittoed likewise...*

              a failure of multiculturalism is a failure
because: it didn't celebrate bilingualism -
i call that the Gaelic effect in Scotland just so
you know it was spoken in over-shadowed Gaelic
within a Glaswegian dialect...

  multiculturalism failed because it was easier to
make a lot of people deemed as schizophrenic
rather than have the ability to be bilingual...
multiculturalism is a failure because it made bilingualism
taboo and instead said: ah... be bisexual!
multicultural societies actually gambled on bisexuality
being more needed than bilingualism,
and anyone still bilingual and not bisexual
was ripened to be harvested by psychiatrists.

but i do wonder what these post-colonial societies
would have made of what the natives might have asked
them...
              i think the natives of America would have liked
the immigrants to appropriate at least some of their
cultural traits... and no keep them in natural reserves like
some talking monkeys...

it's not enough that i have to give up a part of my soul
that i then have to twang the tongue like a banjo
with all that Texan ma'am ******* like those Arabs
in Lebanese American Universities...
oh please, stop this *******,
   i'm puking with the French on the question:
if globalisation is to be arrived at, why is English
the language of choice in achieving it?
              it's not a minority language, that's for sure...
the most poker-laden expression? sure, it is...
but i thought that within a framework of globalisation
(as Napoleon said): if a man speaks two tongues
the first head of the hydra is cut, and two emerge,
hence            the ambiguity of god
      and the proud expression of lizards
and their spies (cats) and why the first letter of
the tetragrammaton is shaped as      Y....
          hence the ambiguity of god and his Machiavelli
in terms of whether there is a world beyond this
one, and whether that diabolical Machiavelli (in all
his despair) did so on purpose to show god the sifting
process...
                    yes, that face of the marine iguana:
smiles like a cat,
              sitting proud on the rocky beach...
yet it has unfamiliar mammalian eyes instead of
those slit-eyes of noon akin to serpents and cats...
            and as Machiavelli said: first time round was great,
second time round: i just don't understand why your
first incentive is somehow better?
        they simply can't know if the first version
is better than their own...
         got to feed them the knowledge of nothing,
so at least they can better what they're been given...
as did Milton, make him less of the two evils...
   what with inhospitable earth and the dream of
colonising mars... or as the history of stars suggests:
stellar evolution sort of does away with Darwinism...
Darwinism is the one form of paper that you
wipe your *** with... it's not a napkin for your mouth:
that ****'s for your ***.
                 at the centre so too iron: as in haemoglobin.
     and we never say stars in a constellation of stars:
those are white dwarfs...
                 is our stellar nebula origin to be resurrected
for a moment into a planetary nebula and then into
stellar ivory of the dwarf?
     personally i think we'll end up being a black hole
unless our right / left politics will lead us into ending
as a neutron... which can only be seen with subatomic
particle goggles... of when Mars and its two moons
housed all thing stable, we are at the stage of the dying
star: hence all our Apocalyptic thinking and bring together...
   Mars experienced the average / massive stage of
a star's life... it's the only planet that shares our common
thread of being solid rather than gaseous...
                    Mercury is equivalent of being the sun's moon
and not a planet if Plato is a declassified planet...
         that's my suspicion concerning u.f.o. sighting and
governments showing us the output of NASA
and then lying that they have this "capacity"...
    old Martians... after all: there were only volcanos on
earth, and then the dinosaurs...
      ******* about with time gets you into these
custard clots of: huh?! i didn't invent the Darwinistic
concept of history worthy noting, Darwinism invented
itself, it's just that after being popularising
the humanities' aspect of the theory came once
the science was debunked... which always sounds like:
see next year, after they told you i'd be
       using a chicken leg fibula for a toothpick:
oh sure, let's get together the Friday after that,
by then i'll be scratching one twig against another twig
to get the fire going...
             after that i'll let you wear my kneecaps for
prayer after that pagan harlot of a wife told me
it didn't rain because i wasn't a good enough ventriloquist
to her schizophrenia. i mean: **** just never stops!
the point is: multiculturalism failed because
  it created a toxic environment for language...
it didn't respect bilingualism...
         it respected bisexuality: isn't that the talk of the town?
all your home-grown terrorists? they only speak
a few words of Arabic... they have been harvesting
the toxicity of a multiculturalism that didn't deem
two language in man to be acceptable...
        and no one cared for the trade benefits?!
how the **** did they miss that sort of plus?
         surely if you're going to trade with the Chinese
you'd send a merchant to China who spoke Mandarin,
and not Swahili, right? common sense.
   if the multiculturalism of England embraced my
bilingualism, i'd be selling English crap in Poland
and perhaps vice-versus... but they said: nope, nadda,
n'ah... you schizoid... da' ****?!
               oh right, so i'm a slot machine or earnings or
those ******* farmers of the urban wheatfield of
thought that psychiatrists are?
   am i talking Dutch or something? me integrating
not good enough? a multicultural system that doesn't
respect bilingualism... deserves what history gives it;
and by now... i'm at Drury Lane: fanning the flames.

volcanos form at the end of my wrist, erupting with every glide of the blade.
The lava flows and doesn't stop, but this time I'm not afraid
When I put water on the spot of red, it burns just as lava should. but it's not enough to make me dead.
I close my eyes and take another swipe and because this one is finally deep enough, it'll all be alright.
I open my eyes and look out the window at the many stars. then down at my many scars.  
I look at the sky, saying my last goodbye, I slip off into the night.

theloraxformula




i am getting to the point of my day
when
waking
up
is like making my way through a battlefield
where Valkyries live in my stomach
when I lay on my back and count my ribs
(what I can feel of them)
and stand only to find my head hurting…again
and I am realizing that your love
isn’t
worth
this.

but this isn’t really about you, is it?
it’s about power
and control
like feeling like a god of titans on a
volcano about to erupt
feeling like pele burning through bones & calories
and feeling some sense
of pretty while
starving myself to death.

but your love
isn’t worth
that
it isn’t worth counting calories in my sleep
playing mad mathematician with meals
weeks in advance
knowing the caloric value of everything in my university’s cafeteria
by heart
and feeling like
passing out when I try to tie the
laces of my doc martins.

your love isn’t worth that
and neither is the hate I have for myself

Earths anxiety; she feels too crowded her heart beat racing; volcanos erupt and the ground shakes. She's just trying to get rid of all the waste

Called Religion before Romanticism:
Darling Radha’s swing,
Pressing softly to her blue
Beloved Trickster’s skin.

Called dharma, grace, and savoir-faire
Confounding fated will,
Called freedom then for putting off
The destiny we fear.

From her swing I can believe
In good romantic faith-
While makers of a moment’s
Beauty, steal a tear away.

When I laid,
Bathing in the roaring spray
At the feet of the lower falls,
And wandered through soft blue
Volcanos guarding Atitlan.

When I watched,
Clouds burst from his fingertips
Cold war to choral glory,
Seid um schlungen Millionen!
An die Freiheit! An die Freude!

When I found,
A girl whose smile couldn’t hide her pain
Singing her song’s last echo,
At once the world was not the same, but...
How could I ever know.

How could I ever know...

After the West was won with lies
One man said, "God is dead."
I mute the TV from her swing,
Smile, and bow my head.

people are never just people
they are volcanos and mountains
gardens and skyscrapers-
beauty, that will eventually
lead to destruction.
the thing is-
you can never un-feel something,
or something for someone.
I had hoped some things would
magically vanish in an instance,
but they latched onto my memory
and played hop scotch with my nerves
as my mind ran rapid with paranoia.
I had wished at a young age
someone would love me more
than my father did
and show me more attention
than my mother did.
But see expectations
tie a knot around your hopes
and noose it to the ceiling fan
you watch as they spin
round and round and round
until they break everything
in their path.
See people don't come with a warning,
because we're all not really sure,
what we're actually capable of.

I see through magnified eyes
the binocular kind out of focus
I see with a telescope mind
but I think that the glass might be broken

your face
is a smear on the lens, a bit blurry
and my house, I can’t see from the ground
I got worries

it’s like why can I see
up above it’s so clear?
but I look straight ahead
everything disappears






the anthills have all gone away
you filled them all up with your problems
but volcanos on mars I can see
and each molecule, and their atoms

well that’s just my beauty
I can’t help what I see,
everything’s just so giant
to little old me

and my eyes
the binocular kind, out of focus
and my mind, that telescope mind
might be broken

it’s like why can I see
up above it’s so clear?
but I look straight ahead
everything disappears

There's always gonna be a hole there
volcanos look like mountains from the outside
inside there's molten lava
and there's a hole at the top
what i'm saying is that I look ok
and for now I am ok
but there will always be a hole in me
and that may be a problem eventually

The beauty in your eyes
erupts as volcanos
vomiting oil paints
into moonlit darkness

I see the earth crumble
                As I close my eyes
   In the mirror
                            A hundred civilizations  
Vanish in the literal blink of an eye
           Tectonic plates sliding together
    Forming volcanos in my pupils
          I cry magma
Hot tears burning holes in my cardigan
                   Fully shut, I can hear the subtle sizzle
            And untimely titanic "BOOM" of an imploding world
      The flames burn through my lids
          In incalculable nanoseconds
               Somehow I can sense
                       The smoke
                           It feels
                             Like


Marijuana.

Darling the love we share carries the moons with the tides
You are thousands of Erupting volcanos at once
Your love fiery
It keeps me red it keeps me alive jumping for pebbles,
Playing with my soul hungry for the love of life
To me you are every season, to me you are the sun
To me you are the moon to me you are the trees
The whisk smell before rain.
Never will I stop loving your soul
Because deep down I need nothing but your belonging
you my moon
As I am your pulling tide.
I'm right behind you
As you push me
And as I pull you
My thirst is your love
And you my darling
Are all I will ever need from above.

I

The pistons rusted, the furnace grew cold and
I lost you at the coal face.

The cat had got it

and the rest was just noise

II

We left the strong-men, that mean looking lion.
We pushed back the linoleum ***** of a smaller tent,
liking the rubber on our hands.

I’m after the fortune-teller telling me
on the slopes of The Bones, she will say yes.

The tent was cloaked in this rotten perfume.
So smokey, you couldn’t see your hand for your fist.
I was dealt the Queen of Pentacles,
her the Hanged Man.
I watched her nose reflect in the crystal ball.

III

I watched a ghost
depart the dunking stool -
a soul disintegrate
from a Romany curse.

I was dizzied by the strike of a lampshade.
those shoulders I stood on
Were yours.

I rocked as your body was taken away.

IV

The storyteller had the world on his back!
Half Atlas, half time-snail, he was
Sticky with aphorism.

We listened to his TED Talk and when he left
the soil was fertile with prayer…

But nothing grew
til the sweat of the shovel-man
granted the earth some water.

V

Acceptance.
The attendant sprits
Spoke wisdom in
basic steps.
‘One thing at a time’
A stone cracked.
‘One thing at a time’
An Aegean Daemon watched,
A genie whispered…
‘One thing at a time’

VI

‘We’re putty.’
-Sarah stood up in class, obnoxiously-
‘Forged in volcanos, capsules of perfect evolution.
We’re of earth, of mud and rainforest and canyon.
Of the same stuff as moons, the sparkles
across a twilight ocean, the particles
caught in sunbeams. We’re the dust that worked.
We moved towards this... this beautiful complexity.
And you can be anything.’

VII

I drew a smile in lipstick
Across the face in the mirror

VIII

Sewing Machines.
dumpf dumpf dumf
Carolina’s hands.
working the tender silk.
Dumf, dumpf, dumpf,

IX

Ella’s lips around his *****.
David thrusted like a Spartan.
she comes
loudly.

X

I trust, honestly,
I trust what I see with my own two eyes.
I see us infected by Delhi Belly,
the muck from Gangees is flooding the Seine,
the Hudson the Thames.
It’s like the third morning
After one day of snow.
My father’s father
Has been forgotten. 

XI

Brian awoke on another Wednesday
gratefully ******* his gums.
Unlike in his dream
he still had his pearly whites.

XII

The dogwood fire licks his face.
Sunrise through the dense Bitterroot and
Wakan-Tanka.
Breath.
‘There is no separation,
Us and the river.’

I looked into the wisemans face.
Lined.
But all I wanted was to sketch an outline,
and step in to the silhouette of
Someone else.

Politics that that tricks the system
Then lick and rick the peasants
Ethical dilemmas of existence
That dilute us from creativity

Ohh I am looking for a finer
taste of tomorrow
Ohh can't wait to see tomorrow

Religious bodies that are linear
In hypocrisy and righteousness
they preach love for a better day
whilst they manipulate and scorn

Ohh I am looking for a finer
taste of tomorrow
Ohh can't wait to see tomorrow

Family units our sole safe base
where values, cultures and beliefs
choke as we morn for our identify
lost like sheep without a shepherd

Ohh I am looking for a finer
taste of tomorrow
Ohh can't wait to see tomorrow

Economic systems that collapse
donning gowns of debt to humanity
sinking in volcanos that explodes
wishing for the money to shower

Ohh I am looking for a finer
taste of tomorrow
Ohh can't wait to see tomorrow

Education that is compulsory
A promise of an non existence future
A fallacy of better jobs and status
all a social indoctrination of the mind

Ohh I am looking for a finer
taste of tomorrow
*Ohh can't wait to see tomorrow

Our conversations were volcanos erupting
Hot, heavy and life shattering
Now we're reduced to water cooler talk
About the weather and the new office space...

it’s odd, i can make mexican girls watch their feet
thinking they’re chinese, slowly shrinking them
into geishas trotting with a snowflake’s melting ease printed
heaviest on volcanos.

Walking down the canyon,
I'm hiking back in time;
when waters carved the notches,
in a different, ageless clime.

When dinosaurs were here,
when great fish swam the deep;
when time - it wasn't measured,
and was not a thing to keep.

When lava flowed like honey,
and volcanos shook the earth;
as creatures climbed and crawled,
evolving with each birth.

Now, I see the remnants,
of that distant other time;
when life began with fire,
as we struggled through the slime.

I tread the river's edge,
a mile below the rim;
breathe in the coming night,
as the sun begins to dim.

The canyon's vast and lovely,
too much to put in words;
instead, I listen quietly,
to sounds I never heard.

just another poem about love

and velvety kisses
like voracious volcanos
and weekends in Venice
and Sweden
ven amor

"Ha Ha! did some kid really get a 37 on the test? Good luck to that guy."

Hi, I'm Miss 37 on a Recordkeeping test
yet I ingest, more natural intelligence,
from my morning spinach-strawberry-banana smoothie;
than I do from eating your face off.

Haley, restrain, breathe, write.

I score more points when I invest
every spastic ounce of energy into calming down.
Plastic expectations don't deserve
my jolted, steaming, red in the face nerves.
My teacher and I know I haven't earned
below a 70 yet this year.

Two Years ago I was buried  myself beneath enough mulch
I could barely emit muffled noises;
let alone offer proposes of how far the stick up your *** is.
Drowning in every pound of self destruction
I erupted volcanos, melted my mother's heart.
Struggled, mulligrubbed with my own monsters.
Finally, I emerged from the dirt, blooming,
fueled by the passion for life that consumed me.
My roots hardened into knotted salvations;
Pursuit of curiosity, to never stop asking questions.
Passionate relationships, with equal give and take and
Intrigue in the new and altruistic.

I never asked to be a statistic
among American teens who pursue the American Dream.
Surviving a full year in high school is enough
to satify my pride.
A 37 is nothing to hide
so say it louder man-boy.
Straighten your spine on that testosterone pedestal.
Good luck out there, I hope you catch em all!
I'll be gazing at the sky, a piece of advice?
Always keep your ears open, Always keep your eyes wide.

song pirates sing of the dawn's dying
she holds the key to our suffering
and turns the lock a little tighter every day
but if we turn our attention inward
she may open it for just a moment
and inside you will see your own reflection
a jewel shining on the surface of emerald waters
your turquoise symmetry refracted perfectly
off the wings of a bird’s tail-feathers

i swam for centuries and landed on your shoreline
the missing continents revealed their bodies
in splinters of humanity i perceive hope that springs eternal
but its plunged back into the sea before it fully surfaces
like old volcanos and rainbows our minds are volatile
and only give forth new ideas occasionally

it was the volcanos inside of u that i loved the most,
the flames of passion that would erupt out of your core.
i'd feel the heat of your presence,
letting the power of your words nearly sear me.
i knew i'd start hurting eventually
but why did those same flames have to be the ones to burn me

Immobile, a feathers light touch
Moist folds seep a delicious scent
An electric touch, down back, thighs
Tracing sensual lines up, tip
Your hands, clasp, fingers together grasp
Outstretched before me to savor
A meal of the ******* clad

Arched feet, delicate in touch
Stretch and curled in delight
Long legged minx, twist and writhe
Silken skinned beauty of light
Thighs quiver, not a moment too much
Building your castle, biting your lip
Hips reach, my fingers brush
Arching, straining at the bind
Your breath comes, heavily restrained
Bits of words escape between

Feather alone, again, you squirm
In the dark, anticipating it's touch
From navel down, then up
******* swell with pleasure
Your body a playground
It's adventure in a sigh
Fingernails leave half mooned sign
An almost cry, demanding time

Cold, the ice brings nip to glass
Topping perfect twins, dripping
Your tender valley, chilled
Trails of cold run along caramel sweet
A quick gift, you keep inside
Your breathing betrays you
And I bring you down
To surf along the edge of time
It's cliff I want to divide

Invisible breeze on your soft skin
Keeping sweating passion at bay
Goosebumps from feather or ice
Sparkle along, tracing your corvette curves
I want you at the brink, my Goddess of night
Once more, but this time the tongue
Darting in, suckling, buckling
Edging less quiet from deep inside
Slow pleasuring a whimper, a mewling simmer
Quick breaths between as you struggle
Contractions in your stomach, hips
Strain, bring crescendo
A fire deep inside
About to erupt
I bring vibration
*******
A thrusting
From you
Power
And
Volcanos break earthquakes
Shatter stars hurricaned
Against a tropical storm
Sending its rain
Cascading down
Between your
Thighs

Terror rains, volcanos to ash
no sun, no warmth, cold bones
cash cities fall from sky to rubble
big or small theyre all in trouble
popping, screaming, lungs collapsing
no breath just dust
tidle waves beware sunamis out there
land to water inandated not vacated
rivers of blood, all alone, isolated
the flower of birth can now emerge
from the earth, old habits submerged
A butterfly free to cry through the cosmos of time
space is mine with the Creator divine

And so began its journey through this dying planet..
The military assigned teams to follow it everywhere..
for 2 years it walked the Earth..
It would get in lakes, rivers, fields, volcanos, forest, all forms of of land and water..
I was there when it entered Canyon Lake..
It walked in and the whole lake seem to shine in color..
It then walked back out and continued its journey..
After its 2 year journey it returned to Eden 157 and accessed the computer..
Eden 157's computer finally showed us something..
This being wanted us to create a strange object..
It had to be carved out of a mountain from its sheer size..
In return it would restore our earth..
The next thing Eden 157's cpu showed us was that the being wanted to demonstrate something for us..
It then went back outside and looked to the skies..
There was some very strange clouds that no one had ever seen buliding up..
The lightning that would arc across the sky was different colors..
The sky lit up and then a rain fail from its clouds..
The drops would hit the ground and seem to splash a green light..
As the rain fell on me I could feel it tingle my skin..
I was scared at first but then saw something amazing..
The water that ran across my face and hands left my skin feeling tight..
The scar I had on my hand was gone..
The rain itself was healing our bodies as well as the Earth itself..
A project was already underway to create this strange object for the healer of the Earth..

I saw a world in your eyes
Broken pillars, dilapidated buildings
Dead batteries, and broken ceilings.
I saw a painful burning empty sky
I saw little boys and girls cry
I saw all losses no winning,
Children death and soldier killings
I saw the pain inside your eyes.

I held you together from crumbling
And as the skies started to clear up
I saw volcanos reverse erupt
And the ground wasn't rumbling.
In my arms, you saw a future with me
And all I could see the seeds of a new tree.

I've never been religious
But if anything were to convert me
I think it would be you

I've always trusted Mother Nature
To make volcanos and waterfalls
Great Plains and temperate forests
But I'm not sure if she could create
Such perfection as you

An entire galaxy was pulled into your body
Swelling and expanding
New memories are the birth of new stars
Every scrape and bruise creates cosmic wonders

The Caribbean has nothing on your eyes
Swirling fairy pools that I would not mind drowning in
At all
In fact
I think I'm already sinking

Your body was carved by rivers thundering through a canyon
Carving your every edge and curve
A river still running through your veins

You're a perfect constellation of skin and bone
A forest of beauty lit by your flaming heart
I don't know
If nature could create that
So if there is a god
Thank you