Red Giant (Quartet of sonnets)

eight billion years

a difficult measure of time

to hold.  it is known within

the astronomy community, this is how long

it will take for the sun to kill itself.

certainty comes within this instant

it will be fantastic and magnetic. the grand inferno

of galactic fury indescribable in intensity and

magnitude, all that is our corner of infinity is at once dust

becoming space and other stars will be born. in the final

hours this deity of our past will decimate all that was once

holy. pulsating, growing in wrath it will

incinerate those who knew what time meant. a red fusion

of helium and hydrogen seen across the universe

a red fusion filled with hydrogen minerals is

the face of every single day, comforted by

the sun. when the sun greets us with an out

ward stretched flair will there be man to scream?

I watch how this will all unfold with comfort in

the years being numbered. do you know their

are only 8 billion left? how many people rebel against

the notion of time ending? I watch across the screen

this red and yellow wave length, it is warm, filled with

the kind of comfort only matched by a hand

slowly wrapping around your throat. there is just

enough time left for us to look at each other

for each of us to look at each other

confused about how we sacrificed children and cows

and nailed each tree to each others, we built stone every

things to erect ourselves, we put it all on a Grecian

urn and threw paint and words at a notion, we racked our

selves. we who held out our hands and remembered to be

forgiven for wanting. the masters painted us art

and we see great torture. Bukowski knew

it was all shit. so much lifted out of our mind and left too

long in the sun. great men live and die to be generous

gods. and the TV reminds me, we

only have eight billion

chances to get a diamond day.

what is the nature of god’s need?

what is the nature of mans need?

eight billion years is

a difficult measure of time

to hold.  it is known within

a red fusion filled with hydrogen that a mineral

is the face of every single day, comforted by

the sun. when the sun greets us with words

for each of us confused about how

we sacrificed children and cows

and nailed each tree to each others, built stone with

every moment and it only took

eight billion faces to call years to this very

instant and remind you. the sun is always ready

the sun is always ready. the sun is always waiting