those insane starward bursts of blackest light
by Ashley Alvis
 


it's one of what i call my "insane" poems.
I shudder when i post them, they feel so powerful and dangerous.
I'm thinking of calling this kind of writing "black light!"
it has such a horror in it,
reconciled into such a lofty view of exultation,
stirring and calling: "Rise out of the muck!
and it shall become fertilest of soils..."


this is indeed true of my life.
my horrid tragedies launch me like rocketships.
the liftoff is nothing but thunderous rumbling and hellacious brimstone,
and takes years to move all that mass one inch off the ground
months for the second inch, days for a foot, hours for a mile
and then it's gone beyond the sky and i have no idea where it went.
but i never want to go back.