Born to Manifest

I see the bristles of a
great pelt moving
beyond the shadowed runes.
I am called closer, unsure of
the goodness or dark invoked
in this muscled chant.

Luminous dewdrops speak in
verse. Their whispers tease
my knuckles as I close my
eyes and read the braille of
fur as it rises between my fingers.

An impulse swells into the crest
of a wave, bathing naked moonbeams.
I, too, want to be soaked and
inundated in something alien
but familiar.

The sea spray of ellipses
is carried on a magnetic field
where gravity sits and stares in
the mirror.
Between ivory petals and Jupiter sin
I sit.
I chew storm clouds and leave
lightning stuck in my teeth.

One ear finds a growl, lyricizing
a discourse of element and ether.
I long to shape chaos with the texture of my tongue
and I’m pulled by the inertia of
a marrow night scent.

A nebula crash-lands among animal
howls.
Wind-whipped remnants caress
my cheek. Can I wear this shroud
of starlight motes?
Let it brush my shoulders?
Dust my heels?
That spark of a twitch growing
into an ancient soul rumble.
Both anthem and sinew of
a rockslide kiss.





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