[POEM]
Everything
This heart is a nebula;
spirals of infinity
reflected in clouds
of dark-brewed tea.
My spit is the water of snowflakes
born of the sea;
my sweat,
the wild torrents
of the Nile River.
[POEM]
Emphatic
the future trembles
in dust-speckled sunlight, yellow,
then vanishes with the slightest breath;
grab for it,
and it bursts like steam in the air.
our mythology of control
is a slow synthetic death,
a protracted execution,
arrogant axe
in the hands of the self-made man.
survival turned commodity,
pleasure turned sedation,
peace is a prison.
we renounce the Furies of creation,
and paint our lives with gold.