Thunder, iron-hued, while a collection of dancing turns in field clearings. Alabaster breath, leaves pull west and fill. A look, melic. Morning billowing like sea smoke, the universe reflected in your bearing. I see who I will become by the way you favor talking with your eyes. By the heaving of bark and twig. We … Continue reading
It will be how they remember us. There is glass over dirt here, clouded over with the voices of ten thousand souls. I see straight through that window after a regular scan. In the white clearness of an afternoon, the blankly moving people walk around with their souls scraped clean. Half of themselves. We only … Continue reading
Like a clot in the back of my mind, molasses leak, watery haze, I wade through an aurous-lit kitchen. Idle statues through windows, chalked, flushing vermilion in this early morning rise. We would lay our heads in the trees, under the heaviest of pillows, just to sleep. Mechlin lace folded, the wood table, a sweetness … Continue reading
Streets, thudding with the beat of light, billowing pale, worn fires off the side of roads. A summit in the back, brown rain from prayer dust circling the hordes, their holy shawls. I left the black behind, worlds screaming with leftover souls. We hunt to feel a calypso pulse, anything like pressing water to our … Continue reading
My heart beats in a circle, and I wait for the drum of grey in my chest cavity to hush and see. This is how we live our days, charging everything into light sockets while the bread turns black and the window sky outside dampens into a cold husk. I don’t want this to be … Continue reading
We are them in many ways, named for past lovers, who fought each day with their spirits lit up in a flare of revel to keep it all close. (There is nothing new under the sun). I pay homage each time I see you in the hall and when I sit with my back to … Continue reading
On 94, I thought Oh, the states are two planes, and I am driving up the shape of the border. (We are only colors on the map.) Did you know city lights sink loudly and pulse because I leave the house? Well, they do. Now I am in the flat part where the buildings are … Continue reading
These vents of ocean that I seal up, often, are what’s made this room inside me dark and folded over. Smut steeps, clamped into shapes from my fist, and the light hue in the corner only catches at the golden cow when I watch carelessly. If I flip the latch and the metal inlet swings … Continue reading
The sea flush shudders with the fractures of bone or animal husks, the lost furs. Only the edges uneasily cover themselves before the sweep of water. There is a dark space at the base of the tree, after the sand, where the hollows were found, and I treasured the blank, glazed leaves left over from … Continue reading
by, lo 