Stars scattered wildly,
Like alphabet soup or the plum pudding
model Adam riddled through with starry
electrons his broken bullet soul where the beauty
shone through--no stadium lights on Eden, no
watching, no spectation or mirrors or telescopes.
Like big and little bears of tipping
pots spilling cry out over spilled
milk it will teach you to meteor burn shoot like
the stars in Adam's eyes before the flashing
sword zodiabstractions--the Greeks would--I'm just saying--
systematize our cumulonimbus, no space for puffy sheep
wheat rows or thunderhead dragons; this protects us from trees of
life and we grid maps of paradise no--
Step into the night sky forget our conceived
constellwrapped sky saran(e) step into
space where you can't look at the flame
straight: it goes away. The spinning rows spiral
just past reaching and beautiful thorns sprout, walk in wild
hedges, prick unscarred hands. When we box
sky, put down pickets and stakes, it belongs to
us but our electron earth, our beloved stars, our
glowing eyes, sparkle in the plum
pudding night in one spectrum, one colourwheel one
glistening heaving, pregnant constellation.
No comments:
Post a Comment