Incarnations
I find myself drowning
in the seafoam absence that slots itself
between the falling angel blood,
caught in the afternoon cotton breath of God
All at the edge of solidity. Rosemary eyelashes,
I can’t see you. I don’t believe you.
The twinkle of the sky, an individual.
Where are the diamonds?
They arrive, slowly in the sinking, and burn me blind.
A rose stem patterned heresy
finds a home in my eyes.
Condemn me. I can’t breathe you.
The song runs through me,
my face pallor and soft as talcum powder,
at the irregular beat that defines
the abstract of my divine repetition.
Where have you gone?
I can’t feel you, Superior,
Please let me come home.
Watching the ember embedded blossom of your throne,
I am reminded of previous entities.
The grass stained cheeks of the dirt-bellied dreamers,
the mud mush of their hearts, in carnations,
brings the true digression of my disintegrating odyssey.
Chopping sharply,
I take it off piece by piece
My chameleon hair, changing hues.
Please forgive me. I don't remember you.
Disgraceful, I find no issue.
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