I. lunar affects
you told me, 'people only wanted me because i was convenient'
and i wanted to HOWL my rage to the moon
snarling and seething, i tasted the hunt in my mouth
i craved blood the color of marionberries
you are not convenient
i rip the fur from my scalp, fine hairs falling falling falling
straining against sharp steel chainlinks barbed wire fence
you are the airlessness of the moon
the eternal dance of the lunar hares tantalizing my senses
senses sharpening fangs ready for a taste
i run in circles to reach you,
you, you, you
are the zero-gravity of space and i am a black hole,
desperately grasping for you, pulling and ripping at the atoms
until we both become black matter
until my molars sink into your pale flesh
until the world ends with you and i
i, i, i
for you, anything.
a single word like a single pinprick of light in the night
the word that exists for you, i will hold
II. surrender in space/lunares
lets suppose we begin as a point on a plane in a space. we call this point, 'home'
and lets suppose we can translate our bodies into this realm, tesseracting our skin into texture.
soft ribs of limestone criss-cross
the rolling dunes of creamy sand, gently dusted in sagebrush.
windows down, we coast through gritty crest and trough,
a vast field of dusky roses trailing in our wake.
dainty cacti reach out towards the azure firmament;
objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.
interlacing petals of quartz open before us,
leading us deeper and deeper.
the glittering caverns, covered in rounded stalagmites,
seem to unfold as we pass, pliable and warm.
I glance in the rearview mirror.
the summer night is lit up by a first quarter half moon,
refracting into shards of iridescent light as it touches terra firma.
facets reflect the way, making cinemascope out of cave walls.
hands grasping across the center console
grasp at walls at protrusions at anything and everything
by the moon's blessing the cave is earthy and lush
slick wet rocks meet tenderly tangled vines
when the headlights turn on,
day becomes night and night becomes day
a negative imprinted on my pupils
each star becomes a black point in the milky sky
the list looks like this:
honey (containing a piece of comb)
yogurt (favor anyone but plain)
assorted nuts (honey roasted cashews)
stepping foot past the sliding doors,
i realize my foolishness
a list and a line divide a whole
aisles contain much more as i stroll
three wise women say flowers are for love
pointing to the orange gerbera in my breast pocket
nodding sagely, babys breath and hyacinths
are dropped into my green basket
now i consider the composite meats
pack of filets of fish complete
the meal i am trying to make
a meal that tastes of exquisite breakbeats
and ballad bellied cutlets
gravitas giving greater significance
in beverage selection i wander
between spirts and sodas
i settle for water tasting faintly of the sea
the receipt always longer than i expect it to be.