Untitled # 18

Screaming faces
Wash down waterfalls
Past my elevating soul,
At times.
At other times,
I am a candle wick
Too stubborn to burn out,
Needing to light
The river Styx
Until our,
That is,
Mine and my
And at still other times
I am the moth
Demonstrating to Merlin
At a young age
What happens to nature
At twilight.
I am the statue contained
Within a
Marble slab,
The diamond within
A diamond.
I am the spearhead
Of the ancient
Freezing wounds,
Boiling in muscle.
I die, I kill
I am the other
Side of the coin,
The story you
Wish you told.
What I am not,
Is you.
I never will be
Never will want
To be.
I transcend
I am the gold formed
At the heart of
A supernova,
Flung from space
Into space:
Inter-spatial jewelry.
I wander moonlit
Wheat fields of Pluto,
Chrysaline palaces of
Andromeda’s right breast.
I am the third stair,
The one before
The creaky one—
One of these years,
I’ll creak too.
I have always been,
And never will be.
I am not.
At times,
You will find me here
In the corner cafe.
Look for the girl
With shy eyes—
Knowing too much
Of herself and
Nothing of others.
Look for her eyes
When they find yours.
There is my home.
There, I am.

This entry was published on January 29, 2014 at 22:24. It’s filed under Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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