Sometimes I'm a Better Reader

than writer. Morning
and sunshine and
a colander holds a
California summer's
worth of fruit,
bountiful harvest,
and my mind's a
colander
holding nothing.
Thoughts are small
pebbles, dregs,
and the lines
of furrows in a
field will feed more
that hunger
than these
ever will.

Ah-Burn!

Sun, oh sun
oh most ultra
wonderful
of the ultraviolet
producers I give you
both an A and B
because my cells
explode and spill their guts
across my shoulders
at your touch.
My smallest parts cannot
contain themselves
and DNA is
paralyzed with
warmth,
unwinding like a snake,
leisurely, breaking
bonds and
quiting it's day
job because
once you've seen
the light,
been left blinded
and aching
in the shade past
astronomical noon
you will sigh
and lean
into the burn of
each singing
nerve, calling
the calvary
of white blood
cells who charge
between barriers
bellowing
battle cries
for fallen
compatriots,
conquistadors in
ivory armor,
ready and willing
to take on the
blazing navel
of our universe.

All of this
every bit
for the sake
of the pieces
almost
too small
for notice.
.