Harvester Hatching

love itself mentioned in passing
"the sol is autonomous,
and fusion makes fools of us all
when we dream of burning
fuel to plug the futures dust,
with rust we wait
for the worry children of
our laughing hearts
to charge fate
of orbiting lycanthropy too closely"
and by then he was too far gone
to extract the feel of teeth
from words whose satellites
only pointed down
with pontificating gravitons
to a scalpel.

the first cut was a stitch
and the weight of blood
bubbled up awake
to escape the dream
but only found itself asleep
against a tree orbiting the sun
locked in beneath
the pull of summer skin
and the explosion outward

collapse

lately my heart pumps three neutrinos,
switching flavors in each chamber,
but within my head beats
every dark increasing Why
like a twilight drum,
starting lips
throat humming
a rasp stretching
against the freezing air
and though my hands say go and come
my eyes spin and stick
to the terrible thought
that the joke of all this information
will wrap us in amnesia wind
and disrupt the onioned dream
of overcoming unreal cities
for love.