A Fissure in the Curtains.
Oh, it’s Sunday.
The sun stood against the doorframe
And stood and
stood and
turned and
Singed my arm ever lightly
Prominent against convex flares
The time in my hand liquifies
Boiling third degree burns
Painting my fingers raw,
Heat waves cooking the bare doorway
Into meals of all days
Orbiting around
A star with no points
A dress with flowers of sun:
Leaves cast shadows
The canyon on the wall
dives deep and
deep and deeper and
deep
again, until the fossil is found
Of the old world when the
Sun was not yet one with the
Tides that move and
move
When the moon was the only orbit one could follow
And stars with eight points twinkled around
In dead light
That stopped more than three years ago
I stay still, and write with burning hands
And bleeding pens
Of the sun that carries on --
Who is orbiting?
Is it the meal I have in the mornings when the sun greets me?
Is it my notepad which wiggles around
Back and forth
And forth and back again until my idea solidifies
Orbit like Mercury, so quick even the sun cannot burn
Like ashes in a river
Frogs dance around colored beads
Moved
By a single breath
The time has passed
The giants have left me
They live in the canyon now
And the sun will leave me too
In six years time
The time is passing
The song birds have left me
They feast on the giants now
The sun will leave me too
In Oh
So much time
The time has passed
The children have left me
The plants are all dead now
And the sun has taken my sight today too
And I
Turn and
turn and
turn and flail
For I have seen what is offered
And taken from me was
That which I cherish most
I see no longer
I wish not to
It is easier to see with eyes melted wide
and wide
and wider and
wilder
My tongue melts out now too
Canyons grow deeper
The hills grow restless
And I have received only the mug
Left behind
Charred on one side
By the heat
Which has abandoned me
Neutrotic the sun
A cherry bomb I became.