I am this.

your utterly compassionate light

You set me on fire.

And when I say you,
it is because I cannot stop writing.
The words and the water,
like rivers,
like rapids,
like the green green moss on the sides of the rocks
and light, like gold coins
like the rivers above Deadwood, South Dakota.
Your eyes.

Burn through me and
burn through me again.
Whatever is left of me I throw into your light
your utterly compassionate light

flames so intense nothing can survive them
except the pureness of love.
Both the flames themselves
and the emptiness of their remains.

Light me on fire again and again.
Your burning, the gold of your eyes,

thrown and dramatic on your fire,
laughing all the way.

Water in my mouth is heaven
and I don’t know where I am anymore.

I see a box on the corner of the desk
with construction paper flames
red
yellow
orange: it is the God Box

ha ha and when we get in it,
the whole thing explodes.