Spring Explosive

Spring Explosive
*after Dalí, and Eiseley

For a frost, offspring
of a sunrise is corrosive,
while turmoil of a kernel beautifies
to violence. A chrysalis

Liquefies cracks to knives,
striking psychedelic petals. Burning
dyes intertwine a pulsing
green that drives the season

To kinesis. Inside a pod,
an upthrust grasps what thrives,
spuming: fruit and flower
subsume an epoch. Storming

Chlorophyll balms the crust
of unclothed globe. Colossal
palms warm to holding
life, divining: into form.

An Artisan

An Artisan

The persona is a bruise,
not a self. It builds
being via craftsmanship.

Structure covers lack
of formation—scaffolding
camouflages decoration.

The body ages, contains
something young—
in him performs

The play
of discipline and inspiration.
Calloused, grasping

Is now granting
shape: into fabrication.
Construction is cacophonous:

Beams pirouette
before steeling; a father
once latent, now testing.

Nuclear Dive

Reactor, your rods
flicker and slither—hair
beguiling me, swimming
in spent fuel. Refusing
perimeters, I want an excitement

Dosimeters read. Your criticality
initiates frisson; I risk
beta burns, dodging
your doses
strewn throughout cooling

Cherenkov
hues—though I’m losing
acuity. Why am I
diving, reaching? Am I
an Ama, searching

For Japanese pearls? Am I
a Fukushima girl
caught in a seiche?
No, I’m whorled into your
geisha chicanery,

Pool of blue fabrics winding
to you. What is the core?
A murderous thrust, a phosphor
essence I’d forgotten I knew
in me, before you.