i went to the ocean [it read his poem] by john compton

light breaks

shadows, move behind the horizon
to escape, to hide from

the war developing in his eyes
knowing bombs will be what they dream of
and what they wake from

each explosion creating a new sun.

he sleeps in the glass bed
of rebellion; believing becomes 
defiance, a weapon.
*

he lies under the unknown,
pulling it to his chin.
cold beneath the weight,
it makes him feel like smoke.
 
one day he will understand
when fire burns his skin
that life now is how tomorrow grows.

john compton (b. 1987) is gay poet who lives in kentucky. his poetry resides in his chest like many hearts & they bloom like vigorously infectious wild flowers. he lives in a tiny town, with his husband josh and their 14 dogs and 3 cats. he feels his head is an auditorium filled with the dead poets from the past. poems are written and edited constantly. his poetry is a personal journey. he reaches for things close and far, trying to give them life: growing up gay; having mental health issues; a journey into his childhood; the world that surrounds us. he writes to be alive, to learn and to grow. he loves imagery, metaphor, simile, abstract language, sounds, when one word can drift you into another direction. he loves playing with vocabulary, creating texture and emotions. he has published 1 book and 6 chapbooks published and forthcoming: trainride elsewhere (august 2016) from Pressed Wafer; that moan like a saxophone (december 2016) from kindle; ampersand (march 2019) from Plan B Press; a child growing wild inside the mothering womb (june 2020) from ghost city press; i saw god cooking children / paint their bones (oct 2020) from blood pudding press; to wash all the pretty things off my skin (september 2021) from ethel zine & micro-press. he has been published in numerous magazines and anthologies.