[ 09.20.2011 ]

It’s been so long now
since I’ve held your wind
in my lungs,
since I’ve felt your landscapes
beneath me.

The regretfully distant paths
that my intergalactic space travels
have carried me from you,
the creeping pang of light-years.

I will always covet you,
my beginning, my home.

But your lush forests
and plentiful fruits
flinch at my foreign touch.
Your rivers and oceans are polluted
by my unfamiliar lips
as I taste your twisting currents.

Forgotten
amongst strange planets and stars,
I know you will never allow me to revisit
my beginning, my home.

Advertisements

[ 09.08.2011 ]

Hello, Earth,
my cerulean lover.

Have I been missed?
Have you been kissed
since I left?

Do the stars yet light your path
through this spirited galaxy?
Is the sun always there
to brighten your face,
to put colour to your complexion?

Do your waters still rise
with the course of the moon?
Have your mountaintops remained
as shrines to your design?

Will you await my return
to your verdant green hills
and deep oceans?
Patience.
Patience.

I will be the comet
who craters your chest
and dives to your core,
where I will find peace,
home at last.

[ 08.31.2011 ]

A baby sun was born
in front of me,
and it was growing bigger,
growing brighter
as it performed atomic miracles
inside it’s colossal body.

It illuminated my mind with wonder
as it poured sunlight on my face,
igniting my tears
like supernovas
before I receded into the shade
at the realization
that its birth was only possible
because of the death of its parents,
and I built enough supernovas
to erase the shadows from the universe.

[ 08.30.2011 ]

Haunting my way
through the empty universe,
so full of violent sounds
like spaceships
crash landing on strange soil,
far from Earth
and all its vague optimism –
for greener lands,
for greater things,
for holy hands,
for men with wings.

I feel like a ghost
with no life to relive,
just searching in space
for a reason to breathe,
or a reason to stay,
or a reason to leave.

[ 08.26.2011 ]

Before I could save you,
you washed up on foreign shores
with monsters and strangers
that I never thought you’d leave me for.

Where is your anchor now?
Where is your anchor now?
Where is your anchor now?

My waters are raging,
and I’ll make sure I sweep you
away with the waves that
I’m making just to carry you home.

Where is your anchor now?
Where is your anchor now?
Where is your anchor now?
I’m still wondering how
you ever sailed these seas
and why you always look to me
to fill your careworn sails,
while you only seem to blow through me.

I’ll make
these waves
until
you’re safe.

[ 08.25.2011 ]

When we met in Xanadu
at the foot of golden steps,
I thought I had known you
once, but you were only
a reflection of the sun
that beats down on me.

Now the empire is gone,
and all that remain
are tired earthen walls,
but someday I’ll find
someway to reach you
and leave this place behind.

[ 08.20.2011 ]

What will it take
to reach the apex of illumination,
the end of my explorations?

Galaxies away,
where creation and destruction intersect
in the tired air
of timeworn space,
awaits the merciful embrace
of preservation.

And somewhere
only arm’s length from us,
beyond the malign transfi(ct)ion of entropy,
I have hope of greener suns.

[ 07.14.2011 ]

If I could make you hear
what I hear,
then maybe I’d hear more
from you.

But we are buried
underneath the shade in the park,
praying that the earth
will be lifted from our throats
so we can make noise
again.

And, someday,
maybe the trees above us
won’t make you feel so closed-in,
so you can finally look up.

[ 08.11.2011 ]

A lowered voice and a nervous laugh,
the aching heft of a soul
performing mimicry atop the trunk of a car
parked arm’s length (too far away)
from another car.

Given life in the heat of summer,
and concealed beneath a tarp in the fourth year,
an apple tree is wilting
as you and I labor to decide where to bury the seeds
(somewhere they cannot grow.)

[ 08.07.2011 ]

The trees will shelter me
with their loving branches
in the summertime,
and they will bury me
beneath their mountains of red
in the harvest
to become a prismatic igloo
(mottled with sunny leaves)
in the wintertime –
the safest place to hide.