Sunspot Island

Living on a Sunspot Island
With magnetic black palm trees surging, dizzy
And liquid-fire tides lapping at the banks
Smoldering charcoal under Ultraviolet Sky

Eyeless fish spirits flickering magma
And tiny Godlike bacteria glowing white-hot
Wriggling—divine—scorching Archaea on my ankles
Silence suffocating throbbing heavy
Like a trillion Earths
And gas volcanoes spewing heat
My black island jungle with its
Tendrils of fire-fingers
Drifting dank, burning

How curious, this place
It was heaven, I thought!
For surely Miles—Or Centuries, perhaps
Below this beach of ebony clouds
Below my blazing merman feet
Breathes some Ancient Magic age-old, omnipotent
Some explanation for the thundering animal pulse
That shoots up through the sand and my swimming legs
That makes lightning-cracks in my skull
I hate the cracks, for they let the
Fire in

This lovely black Sunspot Paradise
With radioactive shadows stretching long
And iridescent rainbow-patterns on the beach, wonderful!
I can see the flaming horizon waves
From my hotel window; (hotel—what?)
I’m alone in my hotel

Prehistoric monster-heartbeat shaking the red sky
Alone on my Sunspot Island
I think I must be some abandoned Angel
Left by God in a fiery cage with a manacled Titan monstrous
Who is Apollo? Who is Ra?
Not this beast that lives under my feet
Who is Christ? What is Man?
Where and When is this Sunspot Island?
Who am I, and Why?
Why, on this Sunspot Island?

Ah, but the Fire is in my brain