to squint, grunt, wiggle my butt and spray photons into the universe.
we've got opposing thumbs, and elevators, and atomic bombs.
bugs can make their butts glow.
it seems so dammned unfair.
it's been a couple of weeks since lisa dumped me and i've gone camping.
i'm at white sands national monument with my pals and a big bag of
cyalume sticks.
white sands is the biggest beach of all time. miles and miles of soft,
white, powdered gypsum dunes.
in the summer sun, it hits over 100F,
but at night it plummets down to jacket required..
visually, it's always
winter.
we've rigged our tents, gorged ourselves, and are waiting for night.
the earth spins and thrums in it's path.
shadows collect in the sand's
soft impressions then spill over onto the level.
the stars tease us for an hour, then the moon chases them away as it
golden turtles through the void.
night has come.
i remove my clothes and tie the cyalume sticks into my hair.
i am now a deep sea fish, a lightning bug with a proud butt. i'm a television turned to static and noise is in my brain.
the swinging weight in my hair throws me around.
when i stand, i pitch and yaw and sway like some
crazy drunk finding god in a cheap neon sign.
i orbit myself at many times the speed of light.
the sun is tethered to my head and it
i am on fire and i am cold. i'm the biggest, badass firefly of all time.
i am radioactive. i am god. i vomit photons. i exude, and i
firehose god back into the universe.
my breath is caught by the green and yellow and
i am alive.
mothes mistake me for the moon and worship me in
dusty winged shadow circles.
i dance and i pray.