The symbols keep drawing me back.
The sun set hours ago, but on this chart
below my chin it is square to the moon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I sit down in bed. I stand up.
I slump to the floor.
I start to get dressed to go out.
I stand over my drawer.
All the shirts look too small.
I call a friend, then hit “End.”
“Butt dial?” they text.
I type, “Duh, LOL.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I delete that. That’s stupid.
I don’t send a reply.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The moon and stars are conspiring,
courting each other in a caustic aspect,
acting against each other
and with each other
against me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Again I check my chart for answers.
After countless futile hours
I crack open the book and blurt out
several stanzas of self-affirmations
flecked with metaphors and sopping with alliterations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Oh God. They’re all bad. I say to myself: “Why am I like this?” The moon and stars are sparring, Again I check my chart for answers. So I rally on,
They’re so, so<\/em> bad.
I scratch out every line
and send the book sailing behind the bed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I turn on the radio; the classic rock radio station screams,
“Baby, I was born this way.”
And Gaga, I love you,
but I gotta turn you off,
because the biggest hits of the Eighties, Nineties, and today
are only bringing me down<\/p>\n\n\n\n
the sparks from their swords and shields
spiraling toward my timber frame
and setting me aflame.
Mighty Mars wields its weapon from its water sign.
The tide turns and drags me deep below sea level,
bubbles of my breath rising as the sky spins high overhead.
You know, these stars were supposed
to be on my side.
But here they are: The moon and Mars
conspiring against me,
casual little traitors
from my point of view,
specks of light causing spiritual violence,
virtually in silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But it’s a charred and soggy mess,
somewhere between hot and cold,
steeped in black soot, the letters
too far gone to spell a route for self-reflection.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
seeking not refuge in the stars
but something on this solid plane,
because the moon and Mars
may conspire against me,
but my bones and muscles
make me move here on Earth,
the only body in this brutal, brilliant galaxy
which ever gave me a home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n