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.”




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