In denial
of the wet
shine of ice
on the steps.
Been thinking
it’s warmer than
it actually is. I slip
and fall before I can
prepare myself for the
hazardous surface underfoot.
When my head
cracks into the porch floor
I see stars, midday stars
that are only in my eyes. Novas
of sick bust out in my throat.
I am suddenly a universe born
of my mistake and my arrogance.
Does the internal possession
of a galaxy or two
of pain and derangement
make me a god? No —
I’m just flat on my back
on the stairs, my bleeding head
resting on the floor of my porch.
And I rent, so I don’t even own these —
small and pitiable here,
broken up and maybe even
seriously hurt, yet I fantasize
about power and glory,
the constellation of injury
provoking delusions.
Inside, comets and violet
energy. Outside, blood congealing
in the sharpened air
of February. Between them,
a foolish man. I’d better get up
before I freeze this way.
Dark Matter 
February 16th, 2010 at 11:04 am
I enjoyed this Pearl. It made me think of all the dumb things in life we do and how humble we should be…
thx
~IS
February 15th, 2010 at 11:26 am
You are just full of good poems. In particular, I loved these lines:
Does the internal possession
of a galaxy or two
of pain and derangement
make me a god?
That’s a capsule of history right there.
The last verse is strong as well. Really liked it all. Pearl
Pearl
February 15th, 2010 at 1:52 pm
Thanks, Pearl…I write a lot, and have been using the blog as an extended self-publishing project for a number of years now. Although I still submit and publish in journals and anthologies as well, this is my main effort — to put an entire body of work (the good, the bad, the mediocre) out there for all to see.