Death

On two legs stand every thing you thought about the universe
but collapsing timeframes bring swiftly toward an unavoidable end;
whirling out of control into a dreamland of imagination.

Two clocks in darkness one ticking backwards
in my dreams my face is melting and I’m screaming, “Change my life!”
No door in my house that isn’t locked,
no feeling in my body that isn’t fear.
In Descartes’ dream he was visited by an angel
who, in my same dreams, told him to eat roses and bled out the gold eyes
onto Persian carpet in front of the TV on grassy knoll,
rocketing through space on a single thought.
Thank you for the portal
thank you for the portal
good men don’t kiss their faith.