PositiveLeft to me, your worst historian,
to pick up, in a daze, some depth of diction
I never found while you had lived
and I can only now pretend that words are capsules
of sanguinity, that they’ll unmask the symbologies
of sound that bore your binaries to their realms
like sacred dreams of Hypnos.
Regret’s a simple word.
I always thought of "A Separate Peace", and in those scenes
you were this Mozart in the rough, a perfect chord, one
which I would meekly channel through cracks of light
shown through the fist of my own interference,
Why this wisdom, now?
The cosmic clown who wrote this song
does not annotate our endings with an epilogue.
I do not see the irony in celebrating
your new found space.
There is no iconicity,
no special shape
that serves the world
as you did serve,
to bend and writhe the streets
into a wellspring, a circuitr
dead1.dead1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
i hear these words
and something happens
in the yard;
it doesn't fit
i see it squeeze
into the slits
beneath your shirt.
i feel it fly the smooth
from off your back. it turns
and hides behind the acres,
of jagged rooftops,
kept far and safe
has left the limb
as light would leave
i’m staring into its absence
and some new kind of animal is made;
its reversal is alive.
it doesn't move or breathe.
the park is wintered over, and i don’t go.
are all gone.
and when they do come back, they never change
from birth to birth,
a clan of inbred
with felt umbrella
that don’t remember
who i was.
one last thought of your last thought
and all the rest become their graves.
nothing i remember, now
will reach the earth.
i have no bottom ground,
the narrow knots of wood
that span and hoard and cup my self
are laughing into holes;
(it is not a dream if it is everyday)i no longer have the gall(it is not a dream if it is everyday)1 year 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,
flowerstoo longflowers11 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
i’ve held watch
over slovens in my chrysalis
rooting in my diaries,
and in traffic.
i dream of razing their genitals.
if not for this ugly sycophant . . .
if not for limestone
how would i know
what instincts have been rewarded?
if i hadn’t made things
tree lines as noble architects,
a face, some godly panic
then i’d just see a headless corpse
some cat had torn
from shallow burrows
instead of this:
and as holy
that you left.
JackIn my 57th year there was JackJack10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
grey curls, leggy and long,
and warm as August
from head to thigh.
"You're the best thing
and the worst thing
that ever happened to me,"
he whispered into the night
giving love in parentheses,
and I fit just under his arm.
"We should have met
when we were young,"
he said, my hands tracing
the broad spring of his chest.
"This is going to be hard."
Air dry as cotton.
Heart, too heavy to fly.
fathomand since you asked,fathom4 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
yes, this is how
I always see you:
bright toxic viridian,
like a bowlful of
like an ocean
sliced open at the
baring its frigid depths,
each tentacled squid,
each sucker and fin and
parted for me
as if I were Moses,
as if you were the Red Sea,
as if I could see
every wild thing
that teems within you
deliverance and the furiesswallowing smoke as if every graceshufflingdeliverance and the furies6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
gulp is of rosewater. i belong to you, lifting
my chin into a mountain range of pride; my
eyes as godhooded as stainedglass windows; my
shoulder blades clenching a band of steel
between them, stinging white as a staticshock
hiss (the jolt, of lightning of newness of
the gullible reception of skin). wandering the
hot splendid world, how could i not contribute
my timid turbulent spirit? how could i not tear
off a strip hunk morsel of overflowing audacious
breathmongering movement and attach it to your
medicinal mouth? and how could i not tug you into
the barrel of my arms, hold you slick and sloshing
as wine? i do not run out, am no measurable length of
rope; ownership of myself means accepting infinity
and offering it up like it is your right to have
what you take like denial is what happens when i
tell myself how small and unneeded i am (a pack
of lies, a throne more miniscule than the mole on
your chest). when the outside interrupts the expa
pseudo-taoistic tendencieshere, to live in obsolete measurements of stasispseudo-taoistic tendencies1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
and find solace in the way time bends in sweet detriment of itself
to listen, enlivened
by the sound of ten thousand and one parched persian tongues
rasping of emancipation
from the underbellies of our mirrored drunkards
where the universe is felt
and God is swallowed:
on her salted fountains
on his derelict fingers tracing unadorned love
on another woman's hipbones
an elephant's dying breath, and
the smell of climax and unsettled wombs
felt, and tasted:
in hospital tubes
failure of recognition
the partisans of our cause and command
the ebb and flow of our saturated, wrinkled seas
you taught me
the only time impossible is applicable
is when i iterate how broken this feels (i am)
superseding god has now become second-nature
and wisdom only found on the gravebed of noetic trees
pure, unadulterated peace.
DreamatoriumDrifting back, slipstream, sun-dappled waterDreamatorium10 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
Mossy trees, smooth sliding imagination
Peaceful Pagan soul riding the breeze
Birds chirping, distant laughter
So very long ago now
I used to believe in something, didn't
have to hold back my rage at the world
Used to believe that the sunlight was a
Gracious gift from benevolent gods
It was only a smokescreen
Bare feet dipping into the water, clean
Sparkling diamonds on tall grass early
In the morning when the world was born
Fresh as newly-baked bread every day
Before Kent State and Altamont
Head on the pillow, I try to regain
Some of the lost soft-focus world
How light and bright the colours were then
Before metal domed darkness and screams
In the dead of night
rimrim1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
i've stumbled here
in an old dream
that i have known
but where can i set my eyes,
two lonely, runaway balloons
that crawl and stretch and fail to frame it
all at once: bloodless, mindless revelations
of a place without a body to clasp onto this intelligence,
red womb of space?
the roots of oblivion
are fed to great skeletons of air
and i can watch the pines hug at their endings,
an abysmal tongue that licks through
the soul of stone
as easy as water
will find water,
as gravity has found
of its peace.
and i can say this, now;
has never been the world.
unfolded letter having something to do with shameunfolded letter having something to do with shame1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
i was here, just now, and i thought of waiting.
but you won't come.
and even as i say these words, i know they must remain unborn
like busy blood the coffers keep.
these sounds are ways i cannot be, i don't believe,
i'm not alive.
but i'll arrange them, anyway, one by one
to be eaten by your oval minion
or blindly forwarded like propaganda.
i am always without you and without myself.
i offer this ambassador, but he only sees the stain of things
and not even this; just their emblems, their saltless confederacy
i've wondered if you're searching nights
for dark clad summoners, or silhouettes
for secret time, or skies
for anything to bruise the shallow quotidian
writhing, shriveling beneath your breast.
oh, please, would you find them out for me?
i think, in there, will be some piece you've left of yours,
a morsel of your pathogen
lodged between the teeth of space
to fondle and to sicken with.
i'm only solid now to share in your humiliant,
low Tlow T1 year 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
cool breeze across sultry skinorange morningcool breeze across sultry skin6 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
in the wind
like a bridge
in my breath
and my two lips cross
your soft skin connection
to reach the end
open and waiting for me
I took offMy day off.I took off8 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
I stand in sunlight
I can watch it being day.
The mud is soft and cool at home.
I'd bury well without a casket,
I’ll be a naked pill for earth.
I build a garden box from wood,
smash my thumb.
too late for lettuce.
I had a premonition
I would live like this.
No one will remember me.
I’ll forget by Tuesday.
syracuseListen to the audio version for the full effect, pretty please.syracuse1 year ago in Free Verse More Like This
cloudshot sky like an oil painting and i am watching the
darling, i will swim for you
and swallow every whitecap.
i will pluck myself a coat of pelican wings,
sew them up with salt and spray--
become icarus for you.
you are calling me across the waves, love--
but you pull against the ache
in my bones, the hollow--
the clawing out for unseen sunsets and unturned tides.
i hear you, love
give me time.
i will always listen.
stonemaze sometimes, I pretendstonemaze3 months ago in Free Verse More Like This
our home is tinnitus
I scrape pine needles
into a horizontal bowl.
settling in like snow
inside my finger
up sparks. he
may be the last
fire fight that bites
through my palms;
may be the last
monolith to collect
I should be left alone
letting the passage of time
sink into the corners
of my eyes
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