Perfect and PurePut out the liar andFeed the desire toIgnite the tame withThe sacred fire. While thunder shakes out drops of rain,Quick! Burn the cherries, socks and a dove(in the sacred pyre).Go on and scorch sweet gentle love.You see lightening reflected in my eye,As you hold flint and steel, watch the oak imbibeThe poison light poured from the sky.The sickened oak tree sways and dances. The rain hisses in unholy flameAt the tips of the branches. Danger! Do the birds proclaim. Watch while unholy flames consumeThe wilderness, wet and shivering,The flaming oak tree split in two,And wild birds with burnt flesh blistering. Light a consecrated pyreFilled with everything we desire.It burns 'till what remains, so pure,Cannot sustain us anymore.
Fish to DarknessFish to darkness: Walking through time, unlocking potential NothingI was darkness once,and then bacteria.Now I am a fish,hiding in the darkness. DNA is like a zipper. It all unzips,and a world unfolds:random men with wheelbarrows,and Mexican tribal signs. I didn't ask to be born,it was a free gift,only $19.95.Time is a limited supply offer,and I'm taking it. I'm trying not to be eaten,living to poke my head out of the water,and watch the astronomy signs. Eventually I know,all will be darkness again.
Fog v2Fog </b>The fine print on the beach,its lines once crisp and glossy,now is faded and ghostly,and tattered on the breeze. The breeze sweeps the fog in,it drops my head and lifts my hair,and I feel my feet grow colder, but can't see the coming tide. The fog is my own breath. Held in the cold air,its coming makes my eyes water,and gone,my lips bend upwards to a winter sky.
Ocean FogThe Fog in My Chest</i>I search for shapes in the fog,as it pulls the ocean tides like a drawstring,white and unraveled. Sometimes it is threadbare,showing me fine-print grains of sand,and often it hides my feet. The fog is my own breath.Held in the cold air,it makes my eyes water,and draws the corners of my lips –upwards to a winter sky.