Haven’t I enjoyed, thus far, days coated with warm radiation
and the irregularity of demeanor that I have come to cherish

our god is the capitalized star, creational-destructive;
isn’t that which we have forgotten as we search for meaning?
it is there in the sky
providing and proficient.

what else would the afterlife be,
compared to the empty palette of space that exploding bodies paint within

the ebbing flow of zephyrs on the street are sensed like new appendages-
across the damp tidal passage, there is a first time occurrence.
I am endeared by the sight of transparent jellyfish,
landed like soldiers to greet and annihilate me

to mark this day with another first time occurrence:
A removal of my masking apparel,
in salute to that messianic body of golden fusion.

and upon my approach to the sands,
I remembered the branch that nearly knocked me unconscious
or fractured my skull
yet did neither by timing’s forgiveness-

-to my darlings and to my selves, be true.
the year is two-thousand and something
or so we let it be.

All-weather, heaving lungs and posture unbending,
in existence, spelling with new letters,
out to the horizon on working theories.


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Writer, aspiring farmer and homesteader in North Georgia, making ends meet and trying to become more enlightened.

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