Apologies

I am so sorry

that I am so much smaller

than most

so much weaker

so much less than

I would be the largest

the all-encompasing 

if I could

but I get tired and I am bored

and boring.

I am sorry for that.

Penumbra

Eccentric orbits
the distance between stars
sing to me
a single tune
to last eternity.

try to hold but lose
the beat

The universe
bursting full
of its own combustions

Oh!
let me dive in
to the burning center

rather than this cooling

some lights are not stars
but reflections
eyes don't create light
but seek it

I am only ice
lights in a mirror
revolving, elliptical

Sol's hot compositions
keep frenetic pace

I am swung further out,
farther out
I swing

my fingers burn and slip
my chest spins
small planetoid
not enough for a name

the galaxy is a gypsy camp
burning its riches
reckless as only the impoverished
know how.

I am worse than that
a lit match may singe
my fingers
but no fires burn here
no sad songs warm the night

Leaving the Bronze Age

My boy tastes like iron,
sweat and sun and gold
coins pressed against teeth and tongue.
Testing the metal
for purity
for resale value.

My boy tastes like iron.
War and pestilence
the horses of the apocalypse
rising out of morning mist
beautiful and desired
as Pegasus from Morgan's
open, bleeding arteries.

My boy tastes like iron.
Steaks and slow food movements.
Bleeding hearts and
sad, slow passions. I
would eat him alive
to cure my languor.

I would fuck him until my
heart starts beating again,
until he fills mercurial and
heavy with leaden
tuning lay
rusted, musical but
lately sunk
in salt and tide
and the last fillings of
teeth disolved.

My boy tastes like iron

My boy tastes like blood