Your face revolves away:
the stars that turn at night slowly and carefully,
technically, technically.
But it emerges on the other side
of your head like a sun in the morning.
As a quick violent stride spans two peaceful
footprints, the rainbow that arcs from a darkness
to another.
The hues are a visual illusion
but so is the darkness too.
It reminds me of the quiet colorless morning
after an unseeable night of screaming rain;
a perfect day for driving with a hangover.
Down a thin road that feels like
a long platform of seeming truth
above the unreal trees, grass, and rocks.
A thought so stubborn it drives straight ahead
so perfectly, so lineally,
determined and desperate to get somewhere brand new.
Though even a straight line repeats
a circle around the planet
while slowly still circling around
and round the Sun. It’s sad and so on.
I was afraid before I was even born
of either being born or of living:
growing up and you, or
one day feeling the dread
of leaving you, dying, and death.
That's how I found out fear is not a thing
from before or after I still have breath
but just a thing.
...from darkness to darkness…
And beyond there is
a basket of rotting red apples,
with one on the bottom missing two bites,
that has been waiting for us
since it was picked in the early days
of the very first garden.
A brow of colors straddles the face of the Earth.
The universe began back in Biblical times
and again it will end There too.
