your body, donne’s astronomy

orbiting eyes roll backwards in delight,–

swirling in sockets

those brilliant comets

streak burning trails across your line of sight.

 

and so i flare. a stargazer, i stare

at the planetary body

(which eclipses mine completely),–

“this bed thy centre is, these walls, thy sphere.”

 

 

logos

in the beginning

was the word.

 

a mute note:

void; unheard.

 

it ascended the throat

(that choked-up aisle)

 

to the mouth, baptised

in a pulpit of spit and enamel.

 

syllables strained at the pews of the teeth,–

congregating in phrases and aching to speak.

 

the tongue is an altar.

it alters my sermon-song.

 

my words dissolve

before i have begun