New Sun

The light switch in the basement

Turns off the sun

It’s now like a bowling ball

A sickly black sphere

Suspended in the sky

And the day is like night

But the night is brighter with a moon

I want to be saved

I pray

But all I had to do

Was love your heart more

Better than

The red brick in my own chest

Save me

From the apocalypse

In my bedroom

As the lamp breaks

And carpet runs with blood

Not all the churches are gone

The people, the houses the windows

Being to unglue themselves

Extinguish like flames

But I am revived

And ask for one thing

A blowtorch

I desperately try to weld the universe back together

Viewed from my bedroom

That I cannot see anymore

Cosmic Poem 

there is a box of thumbprints in the moon

collected from the past

glass memories

notch their place

among the stars

kings in this hour

during a lunar eclipse

blocking last year

like chewed meat

in the windpipe

in some sky or throat

I can’t breath the night night sky though

its black tar above

finally a sunrise with no sleep

and the memories die

on the side of some road

like animals

like squirrels of possums

in shallow puddles

you wade in those puddles

but I as far away as a star

and as deep as a black hole

that star will become

black tar in the nose

i am covered in this

there is some sort of universe in my mouth

the star implodes

in unused veins

the hair is gone

blood and clothes vanished

but even I used to exist once

where nothing lives now

About the Author: Angelo J. Letizia is an assistant professor of education and has published a bunch of scholarly works on things that nobody reads. But his true passion is writing poetry and creating graphic novels. He has published a number of poems in various journals. He currently lives in Northern Maryland with his wife and three children. You can find him on twitter at: @ajosephletizia.