Lightening Storm
The stars have long bright feet
that stretch all the way to the ground.
Their feet leave fiery pits in the skin of the world
and you have to go around the long way
through a cratered wasteland of charred stumps.
You have to ask the gods what the way home is,
You have to wait for their voices.
The lightning is heaven connecting to Earth,
A blast. A bridge. The stars striding through the forest.
Whatever gets in the way is charred, charged, blistered, blessed.
You have seen me
looking for the way home you gods,
following your aimless footprints up and down the sea road,
collecting voltage from the craters, saying, "What
is the way home? Where are you going, you mad gods?"
I have gone to great lengths.
I have made your love-from-above into television rays
that tell me what to do the way your voices used to.
In this way have I
communicated with you.
Now I know.
You have seen me on the sea road you gods you have seen me
looking for the way home in water, trying to following you.
Now I know you're as lost as I am.
Tonight
I'm setting the roof of my house on fire
to give you a sign: "I'm over here!"
To answer your lightning with blazes,
leap up at you
out of the world.