Force Lux Imperium Imperius

Would I have to leave you
for Space?
When the cities were sick.
Choking, polluted messes,
discarded, but still not discarded.
Of course, like all great shit shows,
built by the masculine gender.
Gravel, trash, petrochemicals.
Fused, smashed, grinded together.
But look, there is a new glassy
skyscraper rising above.
Phalluses we pat our backs over.
The leaders retire in them.
Guarded by their Imperium Guards.
These are truths of the era.
Dumb, choking, cough.
So would I have to leave you
to love you, to love in a new way,
beyond the dumb dome of
violent boys playing with their
toys.
To kiss the blue bend, bleeding
to black, infinity, freedom.
Civilizations not built around
gold, silicon, and silicon dioxide,
but light, mineral soil, air, the
circle,
the unworded, and the unmolecule.

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From A Spaceport

  
It is a spaceport
where we found love.
With its perimeters, sectors,
and airlocks.
A sky above.
Always some kind of sky above.
Kill me when there is no longer
some kind of sky above.
But we lived there still
with its perimeters, sectors,
and airlocks.
With its imported fruit,
monitored air,
and industrial hangers
bringing in the pollutants
from the men of Earth.
In all that is sick.
In the failure and necessity
of our species
we found love.
We found the one necessity
that still survives
in the words, attention, and
glances of the other.
We found the glances of the
other
and the hum, that one long
hum
of everywhere, every moment,
molecule, and memory.

My Cat The Physicist

  
I remember the thousand
afternoons
with her
made
so obviously
from star dust and rivers
and the tallgrass
of Texas

when she meowed
I did hear the mischievy
of the Big Bang
you know
the thing hearing itself as itself
you
me
these are words you’re reading
right now
in this place in time

I guess you’re on a planet
but it’s possible a space vessel
or
in the plasma of a supernova

information as matter
and matter as information
the Pinky Da Principle

Pete’s Pizza Economies Falling

centuries of people
have eaten that bad pizza
more long lasting
is the mystery of
these economies that plague us

come for the people
at this street corner
going in to get their pizza

going into the brick and
mortar
neighborhood building
to be back home with family
eating the cheese and sauce
and meat
with all those electric screens
aglow

they look into each others
eyes
with something ancient
asking

there’s more to this
in our DNA and the dust of
stars
above and so far across
existence
than what I chew and swallow
over and over

Ripe Womanly Presence

In the summer
I will want to jump
from the city bridges
into the polluted river below
to celebrate
the carcinogenic world
that men have built
from their grand manly
leadership,

then I’ll climb out,
walk home
to be loved properly by you
and your ripe womanly
presence.

Certain Transformations

What are we going to do?
We could write.
We could write for others.
We could go to space.

Going to space is the same as
writing for others.

It depends on which type of
“for others”
you’re talking about.

You mean,
to create financial gains for others,
then yes, it is a lot like going to space,

like that vast starry infinitude that is
death
and all those fields of stars.
This is what it really means to be a
star.

But to write “for others”
in the sense that you bear their
weight and pain,
well that is actually like going to
space too,
but it’s really more like the creation of
space itself,
the creation of new ways of existence,

like not just generating profit for some
creative goon or stealthy businessman
in the early 21st Century,

but carrying many generations across
the stars by the creation of new
gravity fields
over many tens of thousands of years
and certain transformations.

Satellite At Night

I watched my shadow on the grass
walk in night.

The lamp cast it sad, human,
and remnant.

Is to be human
to be remnant,
          longing to live on some rock or star,
          burning away in the sky
          with 50 million years behind us?

Do these friendships turn into
satellites,
circling high above
so
we notice our silhouette in distance
on the grass . . .

Quasar Molten, Passing Into Love

  
I wanted to protect
your veins as you lived

They became muddled
and pooled in blood
before me

After the days, the years
I felt them in science

the velocity of gravity
met me in sunshine

it bathed me grandiosely
turned from outer space

and I knew your heart
bleeding there in your
wrists

A Cemetery I Remember

There is a cemetery.
I remember this person there.
I remember my Grandmother.
I remember Aunt Julie.
I remember that person there.
There’s another person
I remember is in there
but I don’t remember exactly
who it was.
Not at this time.
Something about that person
and not remembering that person
reminds me of Walgreen’s,
specifically
the one off Atlantica Ave.
Maybe there’s a memory of Christmas,
Christmas candy?
Maybe it’s Mabel Marzikov,
or Andrew Littleton
at my family’s church in the early 80s?
I’m struggling to remember.

Lust And Love Betwixt The Adriatic

Somedays the ship races of
Tyranneous are at sea.

Somedays Penelope sits at home
with her lume.

Somedays the wine indulges.

Other days the olive oil heals.

The hands with polished nails raise
over the rising smoke
and
half moonlit light.

The earthen kiss anchors.

A child tosses a straw doll to the road.
There is dust.
The road leads down to the port.