The Tenth of August

poems from the north, day 7

Let’s pop off the top
and expose what’s bottled
within.

I need to fizz out.
Get raw.
Explode into what’s real.

Slice and dice.
Sear in some preparation
I’ve never experienced.

I want to be reduced
to nothing but juice
and seed.

I want my pulp squeezed
out, letting silver pool
into red viscosity.

I want to be splattered
across every wall
in bold strokes

The cross borders
until all that’s left of me

Are the panting sounds
of brightness

In streaks that don’t stop
shouting
I am here.

If you’d like to follow my vacation journey, there’s more below: