Cool Morning, Heavy Afternoon

4/20/2010
there is a whole in my chest
filled with glistening black ink:
the stain of space.
bathing in pristine capacity
I cry out
and the only sounds
are the billowing clouds at sunset
and the haze hanging over the trees
and the sadness inside that deep, secret
whole.
carefully I dissolve into the bright red breast
of that ink-black bird–
carefully so
my heart does not melt,
marking the earth
with the seed of space.
But it does, and now
this stain, this footprint in the rock,
cannot help but benefit
the lonely clouds and birds and haze hovering
about this profound, black
whole.