cliff walking next to you, next to death— the two things I love most with moonlight in your eyes is enough to make me weep fragrance of night, of churning sea lifts to me lingers with the scent of you embracing on tremulous rock, listening to it crumbling, and looking down at the stars shimmering…
Category: Poetry
Wreckage
Scattered bits, smoldering Broken, jagged edges —And the carnage? The carnage— In a moment of stillness, you think This is my life. And you wonder Why you survived at all.
Caisson Disease
When I re-emerge, I bleed. Pressure- less atmosphere expands my cells. Underneath I feel the weight I feel the hate Of all their words. When I re-emerge, I bleed. Pressure builds slowly, and you have comfort, you could boil in an underwater vent and not know. When I re-emerge, I bleed. Pressure Crushes…
Behind the hedgerow
For #WerewolfWednesday, we’re treated a full moon, a lunar eclipse, and a meteor shower. Oh, and this werewolf poem! What lurks behind the hedgerow? Crackling branches under feet As I sit upon the stone bench in the silver glow of the full moon, where my lover I did come to meet. Whose labored breaths…
leaves of memory
if I could kiss my memories and toss them to the wind as crumbled leaves, my outstretched limbs would yearn so desperately as to sprout new memories as spring. the desperate red, the shameful purple, the quivering orange cling to me against the cold. this autumn coat of my life—not always beautiful but nonetheless…
chimera
broken and stitched from many separate, now dead, pieces. the grotesquery you’ve made of me. we often imagine much worse than reality. yet not in this instance. the stiches rub raw and red and infected yet hold. oozing between branches, sunlight mottles the damp soil and leaves. where we lie. we talk of movies….
memorial
a small fire burns within the cavity I once called my heart. the shadows cast by the flames — a memorial — each a sweet remembrance, a lost hope, a faded dream, dancing on the cave walls like figures in jubilation.
at this point
my regrets pierce the heavens like stars my dreams litter the landscape, sparkling shattered glass in the beating sun. each day the vultures of hope peck my bleached bones clean — at this point, life has failed expectation. yet for the gift of fire I would burn…
Parting Glances
What is a first glance? A way of saying goodbye. and a threshold enters as much as it leaves. contains as much as it rejects. we work at parting glances, splitting the differences of space and air, a carnival of words, exchanged for fleeting glimpses of a stranger and a desired kiss. caressing fingers that…
Late Season Pruning
Trellis of his beauty, she— A God, he created her in the image of— [woman, women: bits and pieces] She is his flower garden. He plants his roses, he cultivates. Ivy climbs across her back, wrapping around her sides in formal array. She sobs for his beauty. Irises upon irises, violet. She…
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