Pink Flamingos fly-out of the tall grass

like spears

blotting-out

the sun—

that dome of light, like a silent atomic bomb

rising higher

growing wider.

Airports are full of

ants

on the ground

while airplanes

take-off

bringing sound

to the deadly everglades.

Coffins

move along asphalt highways

more dangerous

than snakes

in the swamps

but we don’t fear

them.

A go-fast boat

slices through the water

like cocaine cut by a knife.

It’s a high

to live this life.

We can’t measure ourselves with money

because it won’t give us style

or teach us to believe

beyond the sunset.

From the darkness, comes my music

and the creation of day.

The power

to say

words

that invigorates nature

like the sun.

We are dancing

with martial arts movements

killing

Gods

of the moment

until they are lost

under still water.

This tired universe

is dreaming

for the rarest breed—

The poet

won’t heed

the law.

He wakes up

with the sun inside himself

and brings warmth

to empty space.