more from the CraZy Ass Series poem

by heytherewildflower

“I couldn’t be both a lover and an artist, so I decided to be an artist only.”

Robert Bly

not so. not so. not so.

to swim because Dedalus never swam the sea,
never practiced,
and so could not teach him.

maybe Dedalus never searched the sea for what he’d lost after he lost it.
and maybe his son was dead upon impact.
maybe immediate and without pain
mean the same thing. or maybe the hot drizzling pins of
the wings blistered, perhaps the searing fall
flayed his skin. far distance always hurts more than we think.

it had all hinged upon wax, man made wings.

in the greatest bed time stories, best nightmares, and in all ancient myths,
there is a moment described as stuck between
things, somewhere over raging sea, beneath sun, somewhere is freedom. illumination that draws the big sky and its deep cousin feverish blue, light and dark. as air and water.

candle with horsepower. The Helios rises.

burns your eye balls right out of your eye sockets if
you have the audacity to stare at it directly.

staring and burning, i couldn’t stop.

i am a girl. i am a king. but it got to my head.
i am a beast made of the skin of kings
shaped into a girl who hates

directing loneliness
in to such immediacy, the sad songs

belong to sleep, seedy, dreamy sleep, and forgetting
i was made by penetration, mother and father fucked once.

i woke up after it was over,
and created a whole ocean of tears to practice swimming in.

somewhere there is something i never learned, but its covered in water,
or perhaps hovering just above my floating body that has a storm inside it,
longing for death