stasis II

stasis roars its nothingness:
and then: the cleansing whip
and sweep of foam:

i have smoked
the sweet blue smoke of love
and taken its Communion:

swallowed mouthful after mouthful
like swimming-pool water,
sweet blackberry mouthfuls of blood.

i should have loved a lightening rod instead;
that burns and rises like a god again.
but i have loved the lightening:

wrestler-of-the-gods,
whose words sparked up like red balloons
to pop in the topless blue sky.