inside Krishna-blue
indigo
imago
we resonate
tall order cooks
we sizzle in the sun...
there’s a lonely little poem in me
just waiting to break open
shells of indifference left behind
crying for Mother
who turns her back to make us face
the depth of our perception,
the needle of her eye,
red lobsters scream at the sight
of boiling water,
we drift in and out of awareness
kings and queens of denial
looking for a little comfort
in the castles of our dissolution
here and there,
bareback horsemen
taking up a cause, we pledge allegiance
to the night and
wallow in our dreams,
break the barrier of sound on a rocket to the
stars,
the speed of light in clenched and selfish hands,
we arch our backs in wanton flesh
seething anger between laser-white teeth
captured in a wayward breeze of destiny
and madness comes knocking on the door,
fools are fools, we walk around the hole
and the ground swells inside, another day breaks
comes to light the candles in our hair.
the poet melts, and we drool like infants in the palest
shade of blue
