Scott Thomas Outlar

A new day arrives in paradise –
time to suck out the juice
from the roots in the ground
and taste of the ancient sublime nature
of crystallized water in its purest form.

A new moment in time to be captured –
a flashbulb, a snapshot, a hurricane
symphony flying off the handle
with metal bass apocalypse
in the back pocket waiting to escape
through the open pearly gates of destitution.

A new celestial opera sounding off in the distance –
open the ears, open the eyes, open the heart
if you still can…if it hasn’t been
blackened over to the point of coal
in this hardened state of structured reality.

A new bird voicing its whistled opinion –
airwave vibrations discombobulated
with the microcosm of alluring sensuality
playing out in a makeshift revelation ceremony
that only the true acolytes can summon
into the spaces of their deepest understanding.