Where are the eyes? the eyes of the dead, watching from the darkness. A flame erupts, ignites the iris, reflecting back.
I sink (poem #571)
I sink, and welcome the cold water, rising up to my neck and over.
My Moon (poem #570)
Sun turnstiles and I am revolving around you. In orbit, you do not glow, glitter, or emanate a light source, life source. You are a moon, created out of cataclysm, but reflecting light nonetheless you are the center.
Minds twisted (poem #569)
Minds twisted, twirls, turnpikes, a gyre gyrating under pressure, a God’s fist knuckles in the Earth.
The edge (poem #568)
Sun watching. The dreams of the world. I am here and holding the sun together, the edge of the night. The edge of the world.