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  • Giver of Shine

     

    Friend, never rollover. 

    With your expanded lungs 

    and your racing heart

    there you hang, 

    swinging there 

    from ropes

    as an explorer, 

    leaping from earth into night sky;

    here you look back,

    induce a feeling of awe

    and we watch you,

    we watch you

    exhale stars, suns 

    popping up like acne 

    on our children’s adolescent faces.

    Living day to day is hard, friend,

    so we forever stay 

    changing,

    changing in the sense of

    experiencing time,

    by asking questions

    so that we learn, 

    and what we learn

    is that our jungles camouflage

    hunters;

    black bodies with 

    lurking lead pipe tails, 

    green eyes slit and searching 

    for a meal. It’s only across the way

    when a Vietnamese boy finds 

    unexploded memories he discovers

    when plowing 

    his field;

    watch exploding boy spray

    in all directions

    inside your mind,

    a flash of boiling light, your

    mind’s photo,

    crackling like ice

    in warm whiskey throats,

     snow storming like a 

    locomotive down a mountainside;

    watch and listen,

    listen to tides rush

    the windshield over, 

    buckle n snap; 

    underwater pressure

    spiders the gap, 

    and up floats 

    tender meat

    in boiling

    rich soup as it 

    slowly turns from

    pink, to gray,

    spices clearing her

    nasal passages to

    meet snot and sweat on her lips,

    and afterward she 

    stares up to the sky;

    see these electrical lines

    below the clouds connect

    us to sky, they are tamed

    lightning, like 

    a battery in your hands,

    like you do, 

    like you are doing, 

    like you are scrolling,

    like you click Like,

    social media casting her 

    grand spell, Like it or

     not. 

    In these cluttered city streets 

    car horns are like

    crickets in small southern towns,

    just a different species clamoring,

    talking,

    heating in the sun

    or cooling in the night,

    soon dead 

    and decaying 

    in the ground,

    influencing beyond a 

    headstone in books he’s left us,

    in personality traits passed on to 

    her kids,

    living on in the imaginations

    of the living.

    Living,

    I admit how

    that moon in the sky

    is our moon,

    that sun up there

    is our sun giving us life down here;

    and down here, 

    content like a kid in 

    mama’s lap,

    calm in daddy’s arms,

    or all grown and alone and staring

    into a sea of sharkfin mountain ranges,

    I finally take a cool drink on 

    a hot day, and so

    simply, 

    simply

    things seem ok, 

    things can be ok when

    taking a sip of cool

    water, enjoying a few bites of

    warm food,

    looking to face

    the stars along

    these vines of a black n silver sky,

    and it feels,

    it seems

    like things can be ok.

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