Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋

Unglazed Heart (bleeding)

Multitudes From An Unglazed, Shattered Heart
And the days after creation ignorantly wasted 'neath a truer light

None purposed a dim-lit brain before
hot as a broiled oven light
gases ignited the stove soul —
passion melting in metal bakeware.

Particles collided at higher rates of speed
until flashpoint. Perfection exploded
on walls designed to self-clean, except
the victim, clay heart, not glazed or red

still beats. Not put down, or out of misery,
rapid expansion projects beyond its container.
Vapor escapes, creates multitudes of universes
unnoticed, recreating eight whirling planets,

a precious princess within, lone denied dwarf
and micro-ball, center to all, centrifugal
as magnet. Yet, this hyperactive heart
of no known design grows infinite, light years

away and ahead of any that would understand,
repulsion spinning and distancing within
an immeasurable incipient void, readied to receive
its haywire, wayward pigeon splattering —

random atoms collecting, amassing more
devious, wobbly orbs — brilliant illumination —
fire-bright dust humans call stars in other,
as yet named, chocolate bars. In black,

lifeless journey propelled it to Hulk-smash
emptiness down random, interfering constructions.
No blue-print clutching contractor or laborers
viewed. Moving at careening pace, he cannot

conceive all in a monstrous wake. Unflinching,
does not hesitate. Word, word, word, adjective-
noun-verb — highlighted, asteroid punctuations
move about, collision courses redirected, redefine

affected systems it’s attaining. If only
humans could read beyond his opaque manner.
Only it manages imagine if he should steer free,
in a blink, drop finally in her sink to soak, scrub

microbial dust free for the rest of a century.
The oven cools at some point. The heart well below
it’s peak 1500 centigrade, she puts in a box -- cannot
be disposed. Remnants glued, acrylic applied, she sidles,

eyes it from one side. Lifted, lays by her bedside
on the stand with the lone switch-bulb installed
to burn alive her nights, comfort her silence,
when she can’t sleep, touching bubbled-smooth surface

and dream a day he roosts in quiet, like seasoned roast,
or drags himself across a dewy lawn, limps upstairs,
a battle-worn cat defeated. Tattered black fabric smelly,
he is designated a mattress side. She’ll remember when

they convened in the middle, intertwined, never too tired
from heat at flashpoint. He’d bring home the cosmos
in a brief case, if she let it past the door, never
framing its contents to adorn a wall. He lived and forgot

all. The brittle, clay blob/pot/pigeon dim-gloams,
needs fuel and a map for redirection home.


2.24.23

a bit much, like me, and difficult to sort out that big bang metaphor for a heart that bursts from its love and never returns to normal, though she thinks she can make use of him, though damaged as he tries to finding meaning in third person, as narrator, throughout and at end, retelling dramatically and otherwise boring story of societal affect on a highly functioning atypical person who suffered emotional devastation that takes a lifetime to heal from, opposed to the ease of the neurotypical.

there, I summarized it. it's my little monster poem all glued back together in one big blog thingy infinitely expanding as we/I speak/write (so folksy/yet not) and cannot stop the path the initial explosion caused. a calmer metaphor would be a stone dropped in water, ripples that ring/wave out until smooth as glass again, unless crash back, overlap, because of restricted size/space to spread, and resulting mental devastation, but still, returns to smooth...unless, windy, water added by rain and other sources, as murky puddle car tires and children smash, or...imagination depleted...finish yourself...