Michelangelo Slips a Thought Into My Head – David Hay

I walked across the arched eyebrows of heaven,
fearing falling with every step.
The temptation of freedom        to jump
down the slide of the nose;
one last thrill,
before the end credits slide
into Armageddon.
When my eyes are too full of the world,
they turn inwards
and the fulcrum of golden feelings
fly out my ears and eye sockets
as inspiration
deselects this body
bound by
time and space,
before it births itself a new 
into an air as still
as the last day.
Michelangelo’s pink brain 
full of body parts
lets slip,
that in the darkness
of the uncharted realms
of thought and sleep
does God,
a Frankenstein
sewed together
by lads
who couldn’t masturbate
without sorrow shadowing
every orgasm,
never mind
My head is full
of lightning,
weaving light into words,
second by second.
Life spits into the shapeless black
flames that birth the dawn,
into a silence so loud
we scream to bring back the quiet.
The mind is not flat,
the horizon doesn’t equal the fall.
Everything holy waits
beyond what we fear to explore.
I dip my fingers in the pool of maggots,
So that my tips stroke the hidden honey.