I Shake All Over with Rossby Waves

​I shake all over with Rossby waves,
But can I ever return to my core,
When the aurora borealis remains
Cold and closed before

Me? I cannot get to the sun,
To the light that impels 
Its sluggish drifting spin,
Or extend, past the stinking hells,

My hand. My thoughts shake
Like the jet stream juddering,
And my thoughts tear apart
Like the ionized air shuddering,

And my mind turns in cyclones
Of shame and anticyclones,
And I light up my mind
And I move my bones,

And the light of the sun prickles.
In its surging motion,
It extends its rays
From its magnetized ocean.

And all, all, is peace,
The polar air and the equator,
With the atmospheric undulations,
From the seal to the alligator.