Cancer in Atlas

It is snowing.

I am swimming in the sun:
A nuclear atrium, sweating
White Hydrogen.

I stand up on the sun and I run
Like a clown balancing upon a waterwheel
I am trundling no-ocean.

I can’t feel it
But I am operating the sun
With my funny feet.

A man rolling
A radiant ball of Helium.

The moon is giving chase beneath.
It is snowing chunks into the sun-churn.
Where is it coming from – Heaven?

Everyplace appears like vertigo
And the snow wants to replace the stars.

I swing a heavy limb like an anchor
Dragging a Martian head through a Venusian bed.
And then it appears in the blackness:

Jupiter, imperial
And all the spiders fall
Through the enormous hole

In his side,
And you are safe

But benign to begin with.