Eurydiceyou keep secrets like souvenirs.
your heart is a postage stamp,
your lungs, a pair of dusty
snow globes; I trace
a model Eiffel Tower
in the lines of your neck, an Arc
de Triomphe in the arch
of your back, a collection of
to rival the Louvre
assembled behind your eyes.
I gather each glimpse,
each fragment, every hint
of the things you've tried to hide
and hoard them
in the galleries of my mind,
curating my love for you
like a dense, Orphic art.
lapsedyou've eaten my clairvoyancelapsed5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I've nowhere left to turn;
vermin stray like fingers
down my gullet.
"I do not love you"
are five words fit to kill:
I close my teeth over my tongue.
AcquittalWon't you leave me? I will love youAcquittal3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
more than if you stay, transfixed
to the point of reference, our bodies
melding a sad, soft sublime, the back
spine of a little universe blown out
like a crafter's hot glass, the growing
moment, the wonder, the expansion
before a chill.
Before You HowledI had forgotten for so long why I sang,Before You Howled3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
so many, my song turned into tumbled
bedsheets, bodies strewn,
nectar of a kiss overdone.
The lonely hoot low and languished,
I loved, My Love, I loved strong
and solid, the hollow notes,
the lonesome bones.
Crow, she came and whispered in my ear,
said your song is lovely dear,
take a feather from my wing, we beat
somewhat the same.
But the song, it was the same,
beneath the shadow of the bat, as
the love of a man
I nearly slew.
When she would call, month's later
the chiming at my ear, o' my heart
my little heart,
I heard her and she was me,
and I, without us, her little
black wings, my greedy perch, months
I'd call back, filter through the poems
I hear your notes in me.
Some nights she whispered love stories
of a girl, small-handed
across the mountains, a candid song
of love and loss
and loving loss, that which learns
to rumble after. She wrote of you,
far across, the distance
a somber color.
O, I listened to her song an
stomachedyou blush and bruisestomached5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with sidewalks, stones,
the quiet doorways in your thighs
and the weight of your purple
tongue against mine
(a carnival of teeth)
if you swallowed the moon
with your agate jaws,
you could not be more nacreous
motionI love you like amotion4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
a half-pause in a torrent of
during which life
stutters into being.
I want to take you
in the breathless spaces between
where passion builds and shudders
into a trailing afterthought
visionsthe night is a terrorvisions3 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
the ships in the bay
struggle for an answer
but can't bring themselves to stay
silence folds over
like a funeral pall
there is no other reason
I've given this my all
but imagine an evening
stormier than this
riding the feverish waves
in apocalyptic bliss
think of a season
deadly and depraved
our hope's our only lighthouse
and we both need to be saved
and she's there
the ocean is stirring
the water is blurring
could never have dreamt this
falling to pieces
in your eyes
in my mind
it's never a struggle
there's never any strife
when her hands reach out like marble
to pull you back from life
the heart of a being
so vast and so sublime
but so afraid of seeing
what she's done this time
but imagine a story
headier than ours
a delayed masterpiece
we've been held here for hours
think of the rest
of our lives to be lived
but the sea's deep unrest
makes me fear we must give in
'cause she's there
the ocean is stirring
the water is blurring
preludesi.preludes3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
blue rose into the city backdrop
like balloons, a million for the
morning sun prelude.
i've not slept a dream
but i have cried a salty face
and letters spilled like beans
into my moleskine,
almost as virgin as i once was
with few stories between my covers.
the kettle's belly boils
like my head upon a pillow.
i am guilty for rarely finishing my tea
even when i use the small mugs;
pour, rinse, repeat.
perhaps today i will play dead.
perched behind my blinds
it dawns on me that i am surrounded
by walled neighbours, strangers,
they're just preludes to lovers
the way i am always
prelude to the one.
sleep, as an elephant1.sleep, as an elephant3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
it is strange to see you
older and out of love with me
it is similarly strange to see me
younger and out of love with you.
i want to
throw my arms around your neck
thank you for
leading me to believe in love,
thank you for
showing me what the cock does
when it crows and summons the morning.
thank you for laying in my bed,
breathing my breath.
thank you for laying in my bed,
with your head on my breast
listening to the fluttering
bird in its nest.
thank you for staining my bed-
with your salt, it was blessed.
thank you for leaving my bed,
giving my dreams to its next.
thank you for, out of all the rest,
choosing me as the first, remembering
me with the best.
thank you for june,
and then june again.
thank you for december, and
thank you for the time
that helped me break my body in-
thank you for two ticks
on the wall of not-forever.
thank you for june to june to december.
in a few years,
when you are older still and i am
getting even younger, i want to take
sci-fi stories about the end of the world1.sci-fi stories about the end of the world3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the species invents prophecies
all of which contain terrors
a beleaguered sun collapses into itself
It's not yet night when the committee interrupts the regularly scheduled programming
and describes the inertia as unforgivable.
Outside the grief, the cardboard:
Every time you teach a computer about distance
the terrorists win.
In every scenario: No colorado left,
and survivors leave messages
for the future.
Before the last people on Earth forgot how to speak,
he thought of that day.
The committee was right
to describe space as an absence.
The more artistic
of the species' prophecies include fields
such as here and there
relative to the everywhere of the other thing.
The other thing is often the cause
of whatever terror has been imagined.
The terror, of course, being another word for nothingness.
someone is remembering the pacific-
a maniac fires his rifle into a crowd
later, the news interviews a woman,
"All i remember are balloons"
they say this is w
on the afterlifethere was a heaven, once,on the afterlife3 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
and it was made of grass and
the ground that crawled under it
opened up wider than your mouth and
i saw mountains: i saw
beauty, it was a rough
inverted fountain. i saw
Jesus. he said 'death
is The Promise, and The Promise
never leaves us.' i saw
diamonds, and i saw coals
too it just took a while
to find them. i saw
lucifer. he was sewing
me a nightgown made of
soft liquor slurs. i saw
my brain. it told me
'thanks for the x, not
so much the cocaine.' i saw
my skin strung out to dry
after a long summer rain. i saw
my bones become the frame
of a house beside a lake. i saw
my tongue cradle babies and
tell them, 'the sleep is worth
the wake.' i saw a mirror made
of big blue tears. it said,
'the shit was worth the wait.'
water processspirit-sloth and overdone;water process4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
wonder-lost and undercome:
you are trenchant, sweet love.
you planted early mornings-
I lay coffee-drunk and thin;
the stir of your brown hands.
untitled from the lost weeksI'm not that girl anymore,untitled from the lost weeks3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
lost in the cornfields,
waiting to be hurt.
You live the only way you know how
until one day, maybe,
you wake up.
See there are people who will love you,
but just because they do.
Learn a new way to love yourself,
stop believing you don't deserve
happiness, take a risk,
Know it's okay to start expecting
to be safe,
practice saying no. Catch a glimpse
of your white face
in the mirror and whisper to your ghost,
I won't let you get hurt.
systemhe said that one day I,system3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
who have grown accustomed
to accumulating moons,
drawn like moths
to my Venus-brightness,
would meet my match.
he told me I would be
captured by the brilliance
of a star,
a Betelgeuse, a behemoth:
supergiant turned supernova turned
supermassive black hole.
he informed me, peeking out
from under my gravity,
his erratic elliptical orbit,
that one day I would be
and that it would be poetic justice.
terminali.terminal3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
we landed in oklahoma
and drank cheap martinis in the terminal;
you carried my guitar and fell in love
with my voice but not my tongue,
not my hands.
there's a man with a garage
that looks like a plane because nothing
meant more to him. will you make a model
of that bar? will you make a model
of my red cheeks? or will you live in a townhome
with her and three children?
the problem was you're not gay.
the problem was there was feeling
but it wasn't for us. i had you but
it wasn't for us.
i'm not sure if i resent you,
but i remember that bar and every pockmark
on the stool you sat on while i played
the song that parted your lips;
you remember every pockmark in oklahoma
like they were ours.
stereoscopicsdeathstereoscopics3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is but a microcosm,
a cheap cinematic
it is not a
dichotomy, not a
solid black outline
like those in
steps like a
directly into its arms.
about its edge for years;
some never escape
she never had eyes as brightshe never had eyes as bright asshe never had eyes as bright6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
or song as clear as
but ever into her starry skies
drawn into abysmal depths
by the promise
of a ravaged warmth,
somewhere near the centre.
at the zenith of her autumnal beauty,
I find myself lost;
her brilliant voice
in prosepoetry elegance
shall whisper "I love"
into corroded dark
and tear all of the roadblocks
from my mind.
on giving a fuckthere were more excuseson giving a fuck3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
than there was sincerity
it is easier to blame
the gods or your father
than to accept the fact
you're an asshole.
last summer was sweet
with peanut butter & jelly,
your beautiful head on my
the girl who said that
i was so smart and pretty, and
she admired me because i really
didn't give a fuck about any of it.
she was wrong-
i give more fucks than
my hands can handle,
where to put them, who to
give them to?
so now i have a nice pile of fucks
in my room.
it is why i don't clean
it is why my father yells at me
they do not smell, and you cannot see them,
but the fucks no one will accept
are killing me-
there used to be a time when there
were never any excuses. there was
i have forgotten how that sounds-
i walk the aisles at the store
and count off the fibonacci sequence
to keep my carefully calculated face
Of solace sleeping in today was the essence,Of solace3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
waking up the process of becoming singular
I want to end it
but I can't stop associating you with these images
: a season being flung onto the ocean, making a mess of color
there's an insect caught in my poetry,
trying to mend its broken wing
maybe she's too youngAstrid smelled of plums. It was a gentle scent, emanating wisps of invigorating pleasure.maybe she's too young3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
She smelled glorious, mouthwatering, delicate. I couldn't resist such an aroma.
She looked so frail. She had skin stretched across her limbs in flimsy, translucent layers.
I was terrified of touching her, afraid she'd crumple beneath my fingers.
Her lithe, bird bone fingers caressed my blistered calluses. Astrid then pressed her icy
palms to my aching flesh. Silly girl, she was trying to comfort me.
It was wrong. I felt bloated, my chest inflated with conflict. Better judgment swelled
against my callous ribcage, uncaring and simply unconcerned.
And yeah it was wrong, but she was delicious.
hungry womankiss me where i'm starving,hungry woman2 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
a hungry woman's love is startling.
drop your lips down my wrist,
grab my hair, strip my kiss-
the tongue is equipped
with two loves, one:
skin, the other larceny
open me up
take my shadows
lick my wounds
lift my fears
take me down
through the mountains
and haunt me. i never
wanted you to steal my dreams,
but i wanted you to watch me in your
sleep behind my eyes where you could
calm your lungs and ease your mind.
breathe until your
breath tastes fine.
we take turns being strong,
you and i, though i'll admit-
you are the strongest most of the time.
lick my wounds while i heal,
make me yours, make you mine.
kiss me where i'm starving.
a quiet man may have
the loudest heart, but
a hungry woman's love
vortexyou have eyes like spotted lavender,vortex4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
silent enclaves of light
with a brilliantly sparkling glow.
there is no room for disbelief:
clearer light never shone
than in your amethyst flames,
small capsules of enchantment
in bright pageantry.
if such a world can be called
there is nothing in Heaven as much
ZemiThings having to be returned to their transparency:Zemi3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
/ green mist-earth / knit
atmosphere / fathomless
blue-lavender / lights
spun out from light
are recalcitrance / and you
& - 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 love
you? Zemi? )
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?
We go on morning walks and Zemi
laughs at everything I say.
Hubblethe space between starsHubble3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the night sky,
an eyelash's breadth,
contains billions of whirling
galaxies, lightless regions,
breathless clumps of dark matter
and other unimaginable mysteries.
and this reminds me of you.
jamaisthe truth, as staunch and without ornamentjamais4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
as I can make it,
is that I did not want your love,
your voice rattling like the hoary whispers
your dreams (rustling like cattails
and half-extended to meet mine)
were as foreign to me
as moonlight, concealed
in its various robes.
your sucking fireflies,
neon mothish words meant to draw me in,
flurried uselessly about me.
but now that your attempted eloquence
is more akin to the wick of a lamp,
charred and drowning in oil,
I may vaguely nod my head.