What I Want

I want to brew a cup of tea
And let it go cold,
Forgetting it amid our busy hands
And lips consoling one another.
The rain spatter on the window
Being the only sound
To accompany our growing hunger
In the darkness of our room.
Lighting flashes throw light
In our eyes and against our bodies
As thunder breaks
Like the sudden quiver of a pleasant touch.
The storm pummels on and on,
And we’re drawing each other out
Until we’ve consumed every drop
And we drown into sleep, solemnly spent.

Genesis

Oceans cascade

From unfathomable heights

Into the vast sculptured crevices

Of the planet’s bosom.

Numerous energies

Transmutated by tempest

Thrashed and torn asunder

Into pools of perfect chaos.

Writhing molecules

Repeatedly rearranged

In unprecedented forms

Of which many are miscarried.

Fortune’s devices

Favor but a few

Particular arrangements

To persist amid such tumultuousness.

Fluctuating forces

Pound vitality into matter,

Precipitating its progress

In discordant detumescence.

Patterns emerge

Inevitably in chance variables

Until at long last

A seedling erupts.

Implanted erection

Upon a rugged stone surface

Surfacing into the light

And its first growing pains.

Searing agony,

The flower’s contorted face

Gazing towards the sky

And screaming

“I’m Alive!”