Everything Stops Working

Behind an Ordinary Exterior

Love works in you
(intricate carvings)
it leaves
no explanation
of its motives
(as an artist
when it goes)
turning a humble home
into a museum
distant works of art
that live on (and on)
awaiting interpretation

Myth and Magic

Love is not a feeling     or nature's brain
   chemistry to get us fucking;
It's not an emotion   or a way of being

And its certainly not enlightening;
Love does not exist in reason:
Love is not a moment   or a season;

But a worm working in the gut,
An ant striving in the dirt   or a bee,
   that carrier of pollen:
but the flowers are all rotten;

It's the disease that comes back
Through a hole in your heart
A passage mapped by your scars;

No mercy is shown
To be well again;

Cells chasing in vein
Water seeping into shoes
Drowning in vain;

It's your whole life
Crumpled into paper

You walk in shades
You can't quite gather

It's the iron in the blood
From the death of supernovas

The unnoticeable, the invisible
Thread of atomic myth and quantum magic

It's the infinity in the mathematic
Take it out of the equation

And inexplicably
Without the ants
Or the bees    and their rotten flowers
Everything stops working

From the collection: "A Torch For All the Dead" >>

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