Ancient Cosmonaut Theory
we are such things
and not cryptids of Eden
banqueting on apologues
as two magicked statuettes
living in a glyph stone,
frozen in tableaux)
do moments or millennia pass each midnight?
What the Hell has happened while I wombed away my life?
What is left to live on, the bones of ancient mania?
Do they still build man,
firestarter songs to enslave the very sky gods
with the filaments they used
the height of you . . .
low Tlow T2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i'm too soft and rotten
sacred blood oaths,
or thresholds; a frozen inch of face
the same as light years, oceans,
i'd rather brush my mind with pills
and stick these artifacts of wealth
hard inside your origins
and keep the grass
MusingI'm too young to spend my lifeMusing2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
running from the thunder,
staring at the kitchen walls wondering
how life would be different
if they weren't the same color.
newshours no longer whittle into daysnews3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
strangled and uncalendared;
forbidden rituals of a new dark Eros
clothesline sheets and bed throes → blunders in a blue face
and sensing your reversals, i’ve grown and grown impossibly old;
god’s bad math:
infinities as remainders.
however they lapse
i spend the better part of them
burning through the flyleaves
for mandalas sealed in hell bank
for ashes of your epilogue
for the end of throats
in songs and news.
no one can regret their past
but of futures . . .
like when planets will re-purpose you
into interstellar fruit bats or thyme pulled from the brink of comets
and you’re wondering why i'll never find you
when datebooks write us in the living.
shallowit's not your beautiful faceshallow3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that i love
it's how you ruin it
geneticandgenetic2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
i was a landslide; you should have seen me
desperate for the
alcoholic lungs in my chest
to swallow the sea
like it had done before
when i wanted to drown
in the same
rigor mortis of my ancestors
only echoesthis new selflessonly echoes2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'm a hermit/crab (shell/fish)
a shell game
with selves switched
still the same
shameful nerves twitch
beneathbeneath2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it goes without saying:
the air that settles
on your chest
the language of your local fruit
the swirl of rind
their glyphs and runes
like sun-bent cheeks
and creatured time
that sleeps between us.
i needn't tell you anything
or speak my way inside of you
you've doctored in all my aspirations
your furious dreams' wild successions
no longer carry
i am written
dowryi wonder sometimes if i shoulddowry2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
just get high and let myself crush
beneath the opening of a womb
not found in my body, but the clouds
he wants me to sing virgin songs, keep
clorox clean eyes with a chlorinated
he wants me shredded
sheep skin for only him, the caul
of my children slipping at my feet
with sin and holy ghost.
his evenings are spent in the
church, in the coronation
of a god i did not ask for
but was given,
dressed like an alter boy
on his knees.
i wonder if i mark myself
with placebo hands of another man
i would not be so desirable for him
(i could lip the lines of fabric contorted
round a carousel of flesh in shades
of white and black/
become tarnished in inky
pnumonic at the rings of my fingers, spindling
moth webs with the hands of lucifer to fit in his
but i am in white linen, taught with
dowry, womanly as
woman be, free
sadists are people, toothis sun has found its nihilistssadists are people, too2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
on cold curbs,
on concrete roads.
everyday, one of them guards the subdivision.
i thought, “a sphinx, a totem piece, an angel of death.”
whatever, my sleepy projectionist.
it’s on my way anywhere.
it’s on my way home.
silver-brown maw, it’s at its ugliest
shriveling inside of possum flesh
in a slow taut hug
of the last empty
i won't be caught up
just lay there
Embers in dark placesThose little kissesEmbers in dark places2 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
turn into blazing flames of
farewellWhen the time has come to set aside the summerfarewell2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to let it go
to wave goodbye
I shall say
"You were the best of all my friends."
Tzedakahthere is a boyTzedakah2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in my french class who
shivers while holding
the pages of his
telling me that i am pretty.
i let him know that
i don't have any insides
left for charity.
Spring is the perfect time to give up, completelySpring is the perfect time to give up, completely2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in place of being
our dual contours and divinations
spooning needle eyes of space
and throwing hands at truth the way
a stroke of grass will seem to seethe
with secret oaths
you've been leaving braille and bokeh
wings of Hypnos and slow debridements.
won't you swallow
all of it: Spring,
. . . marry him.. . . marry him.2 years ago in The Great Valentine Exchange More Like This
he will gleam like photons
tangled in sheer joy.
where i harvest dead localities,
he will sheath the touchstone nerve.
his voice will soothe great quandaries
like growling cicadas solve summer nights.
his eyes will break into blessed anointments.
his lips will pierce the frighteners
and spill their silver antidotes -
a cure for every blasphemy,
a pardon for every criminal.
remember who he was,
a mystic lisping empathy
for pure, unbottled moments,
a silence worming through bicycle wind,
a gender scribbled on a brainstorm,
the flashing of satori
in the scatter-shooting cosmos,
a wonderer, wondrous
with no guilty body,
a boy's fond familiar
who keeps a tail feather of god
stuffed in a bag of beetle legs
and cats eye marble galaxies.
i suppose i was never
the one who was meant to apron you,
to feed the thirsty virginities
that open up
beneath your womb. . .
i'm not the one to paper you
with sanctuaries and closet troves,
The Nature of ThingsHere, with my hands in the dirt.The Nature of Things2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
I never imagined myself
as much of a gardener.
I never imagined I'd be much of a cook either,
let alone a poet.
knuckles so broken,
I can barely hold a pencil.
Every time I take a breath,
I feel the ribs that have not yet healed.
Though they should've,
So I guess I've changed.
So much so
there are times when I don't recognize myself
in the mirror.
who is this person standing before me?
Where did he come from?
When did he get here?
But I have no answers.
I guess this is the nature of things.
Though part of me longs to reach out.
To tell the `me that was,
there is a better way.
But there is no `me that was anymore,
only the `me
Heartbreak Hotel, 102 and 814Room 102Heartbreak Hotel, 102 and 8143 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I'll bet you give as good
as you get, she winked,
sliding the worn kmart down her belly
and popping the cherry
of a red bull.
So, why don't you crawl
up this quilt
and try to undo
the damage my husband left?
I promise I won't break your heart,
just bruise it in places
the wife won't see.
Besides, that suit doesn't
quite fit you right
and I like my men better
dressed only in the dark.
Just let me just sink my teeth
into this quart of vodka
or your thigh
and try to figure out
why I covered the dog in newspapers
and the couch still
isn't speaking to me.
The weatherman is not my friend
but I sure can find peace
in a stanger's bed.
So put my mail out with the trash
cause you don't love this boy
and these empty bottles
only make me angry.
it's already happenedit's already happened2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
how long will i prop up this poisoned messiah,
squeeze false atmosphere
from these heavy lungs?
i want to get up
drive one thousand miles
to the cauldron's teaming lip
and perform last rites by the roadside.
i see myself
as a diver
hurtling faster than your voice
from this dimension of accidents.
if i am an interruption in the blessedness,
a scarry mandala
in a blunder of motion,
if i am (to be) a curse
that hangs from your sternum spike
then i will grant you
(it is not a dream if it is everyday)i no longer have the gall(it is not a dream if it is everyday)2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
to write letters to my universe.
it’s stony quiet,
it’s possum eyes in headlights,
in Victrola dust.
some tireless pamphleteer
has wrecked this room
with motorized felicity!
there must be
one bill for every breath,
and now, i see
you are the same.
you’re no magic
planet. i will
some time tomorrow,
mid morning, when the bugs have died,
and drive to work
and i won’t think
that ever came
before that sun.
i’ll trade in shibboleths
and type in pointy letters
these sharp assessments
of fallacies and
that fringe our fates
like breached reactors,
off of old yucca
and they’ll pay me well
and you won’t hear me,
pentadactylismpentadactylism2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and in so doing
you deign to make
some unknighted landfall
in a mime
of an irreversible
all this time
when we’ve gathered up the last
of roadworthy flowers,
touched our final
in the skull
on leaving . . .
we’re still together
hungering in underboards
dog-fed on blood slivers, whiplash and improvidence.
do we pick at moments
to unlock their gnashing
i have no reason for what i want
just . . . be my collaborateur
be everything that is outlying and forbidden
the cavus which cannot bear the weight of waterweeds
and i promise to keep you
ever since our funeral
in that godless hollow
of a mind
CheeseAfter all that cheese, there was nothing to be done but walk backwards the two miles to my green hotel room, shouting "Queso! Queso!" A lumberjack lumbered after me, he'd been to the event and had as much as I had, but he refused to walk backwards, only to speak backwards. "Oseuq! Oseuq!"Cheese2 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
Do you remember that night we drank the whole five hundred TV stations and fast-forwarded into the twenty-second century, naked and screeching like crows? I don't either, but it was an unforgettable night. The pizza is incredible in the future.