Third eye vibration,
Light’s fourth dimensional opening,
Electromagnetic field, the hills
In love’s Africa. Landscapes
Are burning within me.
To prevent the fires from
Scorching the outside of my face,
I keep them centered in my eyes.
The spots of leopards
Must leap away from
The unexpected flares
Where my head is supposed
To be, revealing my smiling teeth.
There’s also a radio in my head,
On top, that the flames can’t reach.
I can turn the volume up until
It covers the inside of the building
That is my body, the same way robes
And scarves cover flesh and bone.
My skeleton’s cement pillars
And bricks reverberate and echo
With the volume of my radio, rising
With my anger like a tide of blood
That my shadow, saturating every
Inch of the temple, floats on.
The message is carried on the edge
Of the wind that’s freed from your lungs:
What if each person’s first name isn’t God,
But is instead a pyramid’s real third eye?
If that’s the way into each person’s heart,
Maybe a red shadow divides us, and poetry
Heals the differences in our names.