Jupiter Rises

Uncharted territory! Galilean moons
orbit, satisfied by discovery.
Jupiter waits for your sounds,
do you hear her calling?

She dreams of your sleep,
cracked by early morning light,
pink lips opening wide,
new trees cherried by blossom

Seasons have changed.
Her great red storm hovers
like a tailed boa.
You could lay on her naked thoughts
or wear her like a shadow.

She waits, an elliptical path away,
for your sun to rise steady
on her moon.
Wake up!
Do you hear her call for you?

She’s Talking To Me

I am drifting on deep histories
salty seas. She is talking to me.
We are throat cancer. We are worms meat.
My shoulders shrink to nothing.

She dangles from a bouquet of rage,
a hanging body of scarlet. I am her alcoholic
mother. The sky is raining the sea.
She speaks sores at me,
deep reasoning in gray color panties.

I carry her like old luggage, then
scream at the dog to shut it.
Today was just a dream.
I sweat with the sun on chalky concrete.
She kisses  poison like it’s fruit.
Then lays back and licks me.

I play her like a handshake.
The weights are on my ankles.
She burns like radiation while I beg to control it.
I buy my spirit off the market.
She twists the lid off a bottle.
We make love on top of rockets.

She slips through cracks in the surface.
I don’t know how to ignore this.
She draws me like I’m crystal. I’m her silverware and dishes.
I’ve eaten for the last time. Her body is infected.
I pour her in a glass to swallow.
She spits me out and kicks me like a habit.

I die across the oceans.
The water is bad tempered.
She shoots whispers like a bullet.
I’m an empty trigger. I bury her
in the desert. She skins me like a rabbit.
I’m a blue shirt in her sewer,
drifting to sleep on deep history.
My coffin is a boiler. She won’t even haunt me.
My body is  dead to her.
She will not stop talking,
but she stopped talking to me.