Anthologies

I am far from home, at a distant nexus. Colors I don't recognize nor can. At speeds that blaze with unspoken heat. This, this is the life lived, the life led, past quasars of untarnished heights, roiling clouds, sparkling lights, clashing fights What infernal might exists under the darkness of night. These worlds are broken; whilst denizen asteroids steer away. Who can save it all, not I surly, I am just a slave. The cosmos, my prison, eternal house on Grand Avenue's Razor Edge, which marks God's gravestone, and all the powers of the dead. What does death know, about life? How can creation create and destruction destroy, like a drunken toy - aflyaway act, paradoxical -like ethics; how does amandecide to kill? Inside himself ishis inflective will. Amassing at the poorly structured gates, the negative massless onesfloating lost, at sea's abates. Waiting, waiting to jump into the glassof black and trust the frothy galaxy, and bring them home to the quasi-free, in the marchless lands that cannever be, like destiny, like you and me.