and it has been a very long time since the sun has had this side up--
its honey glazes the sky and rays of white feel like a prism
streaking the earth with a sweeping, strand colored sand, the sky filled
with a bright blue.
This soda-stained, worn wooden bench is a purple cotton blanket wrinkled
against the yellow-white beaches of Waikiki,
and somehow I am also strapped in parachutes looking over
the deep sore of red bleeding from the mouth of a volcano.
I am sparked; I am fired into this elevation as I bake
the coconut shells of my skin, wearing bikini-tops below I am digging
my toes inside the sand's mouth and up up above, hanging like a fruit,
I am kissing the top of soft pyramids--
Cumulus clouds ring in white puffs, ringing the blue sky;
I can hear their white noise in glass bells, and even taste how soft
the white of clouds curls underneath my tongue like coconut meat.
The world is full of them today:
things that taste and sound heavenly.
This side of the world I can be tucked underneath a palm tree's shadow
and still have the sky emulsify like a dome of a Venetian cathedral
with black lanterns hanging on the walls somehow still finding
the palm trees waving in the air.
Unholy, in things of green--
my head lit in red and purple candles
the world in bowls of flame
finding world a smile
as I'm attached to its ceiling.