Watch the Sun

Watch the sun make lazy crescents in the sky,
Late April, dark blue and screaming
Through everything that has come out
Of the soft soil and felt remorse articulated in existence.
It grows higher, ascending a bright zenith
To cast the slight shadows of time;
Length objectified in a whorish form
Of renewal and want.
Watch the sun as it is lead by the reigns of exactitude,
Demanding the life of every vacuum
Claiming to have rendered Red in a pure spectrum
Of pale defiance in an otherwise paltry mind
Hung up over a mantel, writhing in ecstasy
And lost thoughts of pain resonating through
The void of a verse corrupt and fleeting,
Smeared for all to see – invalid, obscurely quaint.

Watch the sun laugh at his apex,
Denial in his tracks; a haunting specter
Brought from a world singed by the flames of
Queer solidness, so shiny and perturbed,
Yet so false and sheathed, denied by the
Powers of humanity (who sit at clever
Brown desks to dole out the ordnance
And never once think of their bright spark)

Watch the sun descend on us all,
Leaving behind faint hints of power, lust,
Sex and the ambiguous, pushing to a further
Oblivion when the hands of time will
Undo their sacred vows, washing clean
The dust of a thousand lively corpses
That infest the ages of now.