For You, Ellen

I fell in love with a girl made of tin foil and sound.
In the sand of the shadows my dry mouth rises
off the four walls:
Oh broken down celestial temple that is the tin foil sky
guide me to the flesh of love,
I am sick of the skeleton of it.
Guide me to the body of love,
I am tired of the outline of it,
grinning wet and blue
I fell in love with tin foil,
the way your skin tasted in the temple.

In the sand of shadows there is nothing inside of you.
I have conquered you
and even your stars are empty clones -
burning and shuffling, burning and shuffling.


Bubbles of galaxies swirl against the black.
The viscous brain is violent and
cannot be opposed by mere pacifism and intellect
says the cosmos, exploding and bubbling,
crushing the expanse with its supercluster thumbs.

The father slaps him, grabs the book from his hand
and tears it in half.
Goddamn useless. Goddamn useless.
The rough man chops the wood
and the soft, younger man watches him intensely.

In the afternoon he picks berries in the woods,
spots a wounded bird in the brush
and crushes its neck with his thumb.

How beautiful. How beautiful,
says the cosmos.