Crushed by the world’s beauty. Crashed, and all
my words seem smashed to avid dust. So much
exquisite breath and color makes them small
ecstatic fragments, urgent shards of glass.
Such superheated love lives underground,
careening to the sky like backwards rain,
that thoughts that thrash too deep can burn and drown.
Thresh of excruciating joy. Here, touch
this tender, turbulent piece of what I am.
Rain down, ride lightning bolts across the sky
and settle as a dew against the stem
of me sometimes, and watch my clouds go by.