The sun
No symbol
Rushes beautiful
Heart mad
Swearing Gods
Triangular
Heads cock
To oblivious yellow
Glass, pebble
Crap.
Listen, listen!
It is our sky.
It is
Exploding.
*Why am I listing poems by genre now? Because it makes it easier for searchers who are looking for a poem on a particular topic. Is it somewhat reductive to categorize in this way? Yes, a bit...but, it allows more people to find my writings; so, it's a concession that I can live with...kf