explosatory

this is/was a poem i started a long time ago. i’ve only completed the first section, and maybe the third- but i stumbled upon it last night and figured i should get it on here one way or another.

part I:
	something about explosions
	can be held in
	hands
	on the brightest nights
	in the rightest light

	feel strange at first
	like there are more
	individual
	things
	touching you
	than you've ever felt at one time, before

	they overwhelm
		first contact 
		with all their noise making
		and the fact
		that
		they
		are both dark and light at the same time.

	but they can be
			touched
			felt
			held
			if you'd like them to be.
	and it can be
			soft
			safe
			sweet
			if you'd like it to be.

	and it
			will,

			burn.

	and your body will seize up
 	and your tongue will freeze up
	and your hands will release us

coming some day:
part II: something about the neuron explosion archives
part III: something about building
part IV: something about love poems and technical manuals