Grandfather sun

 behind the mountains
it exists
posted there from the 1920s
I mined it all out
fifty years across my face

the dirty jungle
way home at least
some teashop that opened
as my grandfather formed
just a tadpole in the abyss

the sweltering blue skies
a decade of summers composted into one
the natives won't heal
my line knows no empathy
No value beside ambition

The light I am blinds
falling across the curved angles of the sky
the sunlight propelling me
such a dirty jungle
dinner plate

I look up again clouds congregate behind the mountains obediently
My grandfather's face somewhere in it all
still mining the joy inside of last century
as these million sheep pee into the soup
to create the essential color of society's next illusion

freedom of the swamp
power of a thousand reptiles
heatwave brewing up the medicine
give me destiny
give me the broken remains of the wall

extinguishing the shade
that sunlight to blind all
yet it shines my way open