The Star  

I want to believe you oh my star

but you are

so far so far

and the taste of your vein in my head

breeds a terrible laughter

like hills trembling

the after-bath of a quake

lava burbling up from the broken earth

fear rising

bilge in a drowning ship

I want to believe in you oh my salvation

but your spit

like a lie

sticks in my throat and your hair

(how can I allow myself to be deceived)

your hair

the flaming magma of it

pops its coals like heartbeats

baby communiqué’s

pumping the shining sea

you would have me sail into you

as if your cold

(cold yes

all that sparking yet

you have granted not one single tongue of heat)

as if

your distant cold could ice

my glutinous multi-celled over-wrought past

snap its hearty pseudopod, see

its botched carcass fall from space