June 14 - 16

June 14

the capybara in the hot spring that is the center of the black hole

this is a provable fact, so perhaps
if we sink it into that hot spring
space, bulleted with the holes of stars,
place a little tangerine on our head,
like that celestial capybara,

citrus scents permeating
the unknown matter of space –
tangerine rinds falling
over our anxious selves,
nebulae of exploded stars ballooning out
or condensing, miraculously down, 
to make new stars, to set on our brow,

and rest,

we could be as content, as wondrous,
in a moment that a black hole can stretch out forever
with our small souls and this being beyond
all space and all time – simple and complex
as a tangerine, as a hot spring,
as a sleepy capybara –

the universe cooling and ever-expanding.

June 15

Consumption

hunt this young poem
awake, struggling, eat the words
quick, slurp it all down

June 16

an ekphraksis poem

Drukningsdøden

As you tremble, trundled up,
it’s the glacial spray that tastes you
first, the green of water before the blue,
the salt in the air before the cold,
the beat of boat beneath your feet
before the wind inside your fingers –
glovesless because you’ve forgotten them,
hatless as your hair wisps ‘round your ears.
All of you awfully cowled by the glaciers, seven
shimmering and white, monstrous angels,
quelling to quiet all the moments
between heartbeats, even thudless
on the hull, only ice groaning
Se og vær redd for meg
in seven voices echoing in dissonant choruses,
drilling holes into the green, the blue,
the salt, the wind, and the boat. Taste
that drowning coming for you and whisper:
Tusen takk.
Jeg elsker deg.