Which Is Where We Are Now

Oh my god,
(my lover?)
You swaddle me
 in bounty.
Why do I rebel?
My heart –
 which you fashioned –
burns.

A lacerated heart,
scar-encrusted,
still bleeding,
(oh, where does the blood go?)
is still a heart,
still a heart,
still a heart,

To you, it is a game;
To me, life and death;
To be alive,
   caught in your gaze,
   bandied about by your banter:
a predicament worth dying for.

I go on tumblr
 for pornography:
 the beautiful kind,
 the breathtaking kind,
 the crumpling kind.
Over the months
 I had my smattering of likes:
 the ones I gave my heart to.
One tumblr led to another
 which led to another,
Till that one night
 I stumbled on
 that heavenly site:
Each post stunning,
 each post stole my heart,
 and it was endless.
I am cured.

And thus the Lord
 created Adam
 and furnished unto him Eden

And Adam
 plucked the fruit
  too early

And, lo, Adam was dismayed
 and he called unto the Lord
 “Lord, why hath thou forsaken me?
 “I have tasted of your fruit
  and have found it hard and bitter.”

The Lord saw before Him
 the morning of His Glory —
 Perfection in every blade of grass,
  every seed, and every hair on Adam’s head.

And the Light of God’s Grin
 shown upon Adam
 “Adam, it is your own fashioning.
 “And I assure you:
  there is not a bad thing in Eden,
  not even your fashioning.”

I sought and sought
 until it all became
  Hocus Pocus;
 then I realized
  it always was.

A mountain of blue-gray
  looms over the dark horizon
 bouyed by a soft expanse of pink
  and the delicate, ruddy strip
  of peaceful, glowering foothills

  falling away to twilight

My poppy wildflowers
 recklessly bloom
An enthralling spread
 rushes past the ego
and quickly covers
 all patches of hate
and sin is a needless
 worry of the past.

Rollicking lilting:
an unseen young woman’s
 chortle haunts my ears.
Angelic chuckling softens my heart.
Occasionally, in a swooning despair,
 I lean out the window
 to blindly seek her face, the fount,
 only to be splashed 
 with a fresh outpouring of cherubic mirth.
Assured, languid, bright, content —
 all I’ve wanted to experience in a woman.
Intermittent eternal trumpet of joy —
tittering with gusto —
driving me up to heaven.