[178]

Where the Moons are Gold

they hold olympics like champs. anti-gravity short jumps. who can go
the slowest. how long can you hold your breath without water. everyone
wins if they don’t float into a crater. the medals are made of

albatross bones filled with lead. when i was five i built a basecamp
out of star wars legos. even then i understood that you had to kill
fresh for the heat to hide inside. it wasn’t the moon i wanted.

something hotter. in color at least. they got there before me but at least
they got there. dust caresses the black holes like a long-lost lover. i wait
for them to come for me. my knife is silver. my tears are gold.

~

It’s August, MotherFuckers! 

Image as with yesterday, taken with iPhone, title of the art for sale at Jewel Box.
Words written with love.
Ears On the banter of baristas.
Time Taken four minutes.
Brain On how beautiful this universe.

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This entry was published on August 6, 2012 at 8:13 am and is filed under August, Poems, Seattle, Self-Portraits. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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