bedIt's a stabbing sightLetting in the morning with a crack of the shadesAnd you forget you could page-turn horizonsWaft through free territoryWhere acres are just bedsMade of fresh landWrinkles in the riverTell remembered timesAbout old languages that could make you cryAbout soft beds that carve away canyonsA speaking voice lifted from the earthBegging you to remember
The Tap on the LeavesIt's the growl of the skyThat burns like kissesIn the soil
In your headThat everything is with no reasonAll tides are simple waterBut they hit us the sameThe monsters in your headAre only in your headTransfixedRushing down the cavernThey wipe you outAnd you sleepBobbing in that oceanA starry nighted motionThat rocks you into waking
evergreenUnder the cedar boughs forming scars against the skyI found them: brilliant, ghost-like, humble creaturesTimid like the greying clouds fearful of weepingDrinking from a hollow in the evergreenThey scattered as they saw meLeaving a lone shade lying decimated in the earthly compostFading like sand pulled flat by the tideI knew this was how they would come to their endThe waning gibbous cannot guide them homeAs there is no return for those forgottenSo they rest and worship the dark crescent cup until she fills againThirsting for the stagnant puddles of the evergreen
flieslighters burn more than just fingers, they can take the skin right off, or peel the paint from your wallsI'm up in smoke at the moment, floating on anxiety, some sort of cloud wet with fearI have the demons in me trying to break my rib cage because they think it's a prison, but I didn't put them there, I woke up one day and found themthey said I tastedlike something someone wantedslow paced pleasureto the point at the top of the mountainbut who wants that from me?I'm the space between faint ghostand grey moth, swatted with a devicefor flies
a drug or choosingYour oily prints upon my eyesBlessed art thouYou bleed through the cracks in my wallsEyes, pores in every centimeter of wallpaperWatching me sleep, watching my night-mareThe horse running from the fire-like riverPouring down the mountain to the plains belowEngulfing my atmosphere in golden red smokeI am not addicted
Sirenum scopulimy bed hangs like cliffssharp edges under tidetwo pearls, golden linedon black, she sings me homeraptured, like gnosisfaded on wine
freeHer cut lip was leaving a trailThrough the early woodsThe cracking leaves left stained autumnAnd birds' nests emptied of their predatorsSnakes keep homes in the canopyBut some of us are afraid to climb
NirvanaCast your oracle, whale bonesCrash from the azureInto white splashing cobaltThunderheads, tell me liesWildfire old soul screaming for the earthI climb colossi to hang from the redwoodLet me fall through paradiseAnd find Nirvāṇa
waking upand imagine my surprisewhen my insides bloomedinto so many dandelions,and in a single breathi becamehollow.
summergirlNow read aloud over here. Do give it a listen, won't you? i. summergirl,you are crowthroated and tumblingthrough the aspen grovehair on fire with sunrise, lungsfull of sky.eyelashes like wildflowersand every morning bringsa new spray of frecklesand a sharper curve to your collarbones.the cornfields hold no shadowsfor your lighthouse eyesand there are no endings in thatsurefooted smile. ii. you have grownso fast.autumn finds you with broken anklesleaning on an oak branchand watching the skies.crow to sparrow--you are quiet.summergirl, there is peace in silence,perched treetop,fallen antlers in your hands.you will come to mourn your deer.keep them close. iii. by winter you have paled,and like the streams your eyes have frosted over.you feel the chill--there is no need for sight.summergirl, th
astronomerswhen we're togetherdusk is containable; the moon in my palmsand the stars on your ceiling.we lull the city to sleepwith our theories of life; my tongue curlinginto speech.do you remember,when Jupiter was a silver wick, lighting its countless moons?that night,you balanced a cigarette off your lips,and I watched the vermillion flame burn lifeas a newborn sun;stars forming,planets moulding and constellations snakedabove our eyes.i imaginedwhat it would be like to be curledinside the embers creator and destroyerof worlds,so close to your lips.
insomnia to keep you closefalling asleep with the windowsopen, with morning curlingaround you like a drop of blueink in a glass of water,turquoise and unwritten;remembering when early dawnwas a secret you keptin a soft, aortic pocket—your dead lighter spinningto the floor of Lake Ontario,a halo of its bygone, synergetic flame.
shhhwe are lurking too close to jesus,on the empty edge of a lightless stage,curved nails digging into the skin of our pale palms.he asks as an afterthoughtdo you believe in something holy? and i think yes,i think this is what i believe in.
we were found beneath the seai've been meaning to tell you(i swear i have)i'm hopelessly addicted to throwingmessages in bottlesand losing themtothe milky way.i had once thrown them across the mid--length of seasbut then you wouldfind them,read themand leave them,much like the nights you foundrhythm in mymetronome sheets.i found your messages(i swear i have)i'm tired of shooting seagullsto protectand watch them flytothe milky way.i had once chased them shouting mid--length of the seabut then you wouldwrite a letter,throw it to me,and windowsill sit,much like the night you foundpoetry on myscarred stomach.and then i found verses(i swear i didn't mean to)tattooed belowmyfloating ribs.i thought you stoppedyelling metaphors to keep meafloat thesewater-galaxy-borne messagesin rundownwine bottles.i just thought you'dstop painting your dreamson my saltyskin.i wrote fabricated honesty(i swear i didn't mean to)surfing belowyourfloating ribs.i wanted to whisp
In my bathroom againGod's in my bathroom again,he's shaving the patches of hisbeard and pulling clown-facesat the soap. Last nighthe held me as I lay in a fever,made little screams, keptthe hot tongues from my face,the mushrooms from myspine.He says his old girlfriendtried to drink his blood, thatit messed him upfor a while. He saysit's been a long time.God looks sad, jingling histeeth at me like loosechange. The clicks of myheart make me sick;folding his pyjamaswould bethe kind thingto do.
a string drawn tautthere are so many blue stars in your skinbut i can't believe each neuron is a universealight with planets,gaunt aliens signing godin the absence of your name,dim cars on the street,beneath an awninglike a glowing orange wombyou shudder saying,god,i just had a chill, is this room coldor are we in the gut of a giant who's strung outseven days lifeless,biting the apple,a dragon,wishing for his mother,mijo, dioses magno,the earth is spinning in the eyesof a turtlewith a red shellwho swims in the flowers ophelia braided, who swallows supernovas and they pass through his kidneys,oh god,we could burst any minute,a fly's nerves twitch,tectonics shift, a city laid,babel screechesbetween microscope lenses, clutching wife to child,do you know my name?do you know you're shivering? do you know i'm the son of your nucleus?i live in your cheekand die at your
pacificher longbow mouth is un-strung; loose bottomlip with a cockedjaw -.shebirths into him likea womb
PerigeeWhen the mare went blindmy heart clouded like her eyesshe walked calm along her dark pathshe learned step up, step downI led her by the forelockher trust like the moon between my hands
ZemiThings having to be returned to their transparency: i. / green mist-earth / knit atmosphere / fathomless blue-lavender / lights spun out from light ii. are recalcitrance / and you are convergence & - a fingernail of summer - a melting of rain - a crown of flowers - a priest of sunsets(beautiful? I love you, because. Zemi.Zemi. are you beautiful because I loveyou? Zemi? ) iii. I imagine this is what it's like to breathe sea foam over the Cliffs of Moher: hydration. absolution. To Rilke, it's a melody that floods over us when we have forgotten how to listen for it. I never could forget this: for how could I know my hand as both well and chasm? and how could I know time, a windstruck dimension, standing in her white street? iv. We go on morning walks and Zemi laughs at everything I say.
urban oceanThe wet roads are my urban ocean.Some men see God in the break of foam--I see God in the freeway.I see God in the spray off the backs of eighteen-wheelers hauling consumer garbage to southern Maineas I walk along the side with my boots soaked from puddles.The sea reflects the sky and Route 2 reflects the skyand the waves go shush, shush, and the cars go shush, shushand the clouds roll over,the clouds roll over.The wet roads are my urban ocean.
thankheaven for books,and mulatto boys thatbreak my heart; thank god for vodka andthank god for urges that slither into deep throatspast better judgement and thank god for his handsthat he lovedme with
To Him, With Loveintimacy is airing outthose facts you have heldagainst yourself,allowing someone elseto draw his own conclusions aboutyour vain pursuits of existence.
virginity is like an envelopemy mother said her mother knew.i wonder if she stumbled home like i did,fifteen and beer-loosetied to the door like a thunderstorm with black lipsand i wrote a story about disaster,a quiet two sleds long.a box full of beads, i swallowedfifteen needles, mommy. don’ttell me i’m not sorry.don’t call me a whore you bag of bonesyou lock-loose suitcase do you evenrecognize me look at my face my toothache skini am not the one with the knife.my mother never slept with a boywho didn’t love her never let a boysleep on her while she lay awake beneaththe shroud of his skin breathing onlywhen her voice-box gathered too much dust.you have to know i didn’t doit on purpose. he slid beers down my throattill i felt like a landfill.i was not yet a crescendo. maybe i was a polka-dot.you couldn’t tell. i got homewith my legs full of nightmare.the doctor said xanax.i said i am a ruin like the oneswe saw in peru.a balloon in a funeral poem.
outgrowing gillssea-cradled urchin child has a salty heart yearnin'for a glimpse of mother moontiny spiked wunderkindpunk, studded beltyou know life's answers wellshuffling through the seaweed-less hallsmissing the ocean swelltidal waves foaming at the moutheveryone is laughing nowat the boy born on a boat one sunny afternooncause mama loved the sea like lovers love the sheetslandlocked kid is homesick andsea sure, he's searching for the sea shore life's a blur for Davy Jones at his lockercapsized by sea-legs on solid ground, he finds his seizuresand he hates his earth motherhe hates herfor falling for the ocean and how he's rocked by the moonhow he's mesmerized by her glowher pull on his sea-conceived cellsnohe hates her toofor the puking in the stallsfor the ridicule
where i dance alonei. I mistook a shy boy for a thunderous one in the days when I lived inside his lungs.ii. I wanted your hands in the early morning, or in 8 o' clock light. (Does it matter? I just wanted you.) Hands like paper cranes, hands like wind chimes. Then we could've been like lovers in a parody: "I love you, I love youno, I don't. But you are beautiful." And while I was not your lover, neither was I your queen. Either way, you wouldn't hold my heart.iii. Our fingers would've taken flight and then the rest of us, too. Then you would've known of the ballroom in my chest, the migrations inside my body, of the tiny secret nothings that make their way like monarchsas if by instinct, as if they have been here beforefrom ballroom to piano hands to the museum that is my mind to my stomach. But you are the only lost boy afraid to fly.iv. I was a foreign land and you would not dare travel without a map. But I do not possess a souvenir shop in which to purchase one. I am a des
Cicadas in the HibiscusThe WastelandPlanet Earth is dead.The Biospheres are pristine,bright recollections.He breaks ships for cashbut has never flown abovethe smog and rusting.They revolve like moonswith a hundred white faces.Billions look up.The Garden of Eden"Let's feed the Earthlings,"cries a human. She wondersat speciation.Extinct flowers bloom.The day cycle ends and shewatches the dome split.The constellationswere renamed by the Founders.She finds Orion.The Dark StarHe collects spare parts,amasses a ship in months,then learns to pilot."There's no need for alicense to kill, kill, kill, kill,the unfortunate."She sees him coming,but says nothing. The glasserupts to soundless.OblivionThey watch from the groundand color televisions.Some cheer. Some sicken."And measures have beentaken to ensure no moreSpheres will be damaged."The borders tighten.Someone starves in Coal City.Planet Earth is dead.
they can't be takentheir bleach skin caught my eyealbino white against the wildhair like bright sky electric in the briarshaloed sister gods shot down like fawn