MY MAIN POETRY BLOG. ALL NEW WRITING WILL BE THERE.
song to the moon is sung
the greatest lengths my
lips have taken,
trying to keep wounding
arrows at bay.
but enough is enough,
exhausted and given up
the words will now come,
to the tender ears
and unsuspecting heart
very much your own.
brave boy, the water
has risen
smooth with
glide of the sharks closing
circles,
they are coming in.
tomahawk,
feathers bloodied fray
around
cleaving jaws and
brightened eyes and
bodies holding tight
with hope.
to snap every whispered
promise, break
every bone within
backs. manic to
rage and
wreck and
end every inch
of us
once alive and now
nothing more than stone.
beautiful, oh boy
what have you done?
i can’t help but let my tongue slip
into burning knives;
nothing in my head is fine
i hurt.
lion’s roar only echos truth;
sorry, it is
your fault this time.
lions eat lambs
what a flammable third eye
i’ve been given,
and a feverish mind i spend
my time in.
seascapes of swaying pine trees,
blend in close and then far
speeding with the
blaze of blackened highway.
all looks white-hot under
violent cry
of the sun.
there is a blue soul,
that lays starved and small
inside of him.
a single fractured sight,
somewhere deep in
his body’s well.
and throwing rope for days
i found is no use,
no light or sharpened hook
could reach and bring
it back up and out to
my small waiting palms,
pink with warm blood.
may day.
i am but one body,
one tender box of
blood and bags of
lungs with air, breathing
on the edge of the
woods-
steeper than my veins
with their truths
and
various fates.
curled
as a shell, bent
like a holy man
furious with prayer-
i am just a girl.
and here i sit,
trying to whisper
secrets into a meadow’s
yielding ears.
sand castles’ turrets
heaved
between grassy blades.
my hands shaking while
busy manufacturing the
little palaces; all
lopsided architecture.
they are busy falling
to bits, back to tiny
cells-as the bricks
that all this moment really is.
a man howls in the
distance to his dog,
sun raking over their manic song.
that catches as echos
within marrow halls and
making my bones feel cold.
strips the veneer away.
giving to my eyes
the reality of it all.
absolutely nothing.
i never asked for much,
just that their be blood enough
to fill my body’s hourglass.
that though bones of my being are
a small and slender sight to see,
if they could be rimmed in wire and twisted iron;
then i would always be able to stand on
these two weary feet.
running to break-necks
to beat the breath from my lungs.
i could cross the seas on intrepid toes
feel the salt collect and build like marrow;
a mirror behind sleepy eyes
still every bit as fragile as abalone.
i keep watch forever over
the red sun setting.
and i am bound to the banks where i am sitting.
and my fate line stitched along my palms
remains ticking.
they say the same words to me;
“just keep going.
you will see my darling. you will see.”
these are the facts
the gentle push,
like an ocean’s sway
pulls and pours warm into my tiny,
thin excuses for veins.
to give homage to little pills
rounded and aquamarine.
opening my mouth to receive the host
as if i were a child again in mass
on christmas’s eve.
save me from my self, i fold my
hands’ and fingers’ bones into
lockets and as they turn white
while i pray;
“bless me father for i have sinned.”
and i am prolonging this wasting death
melodramatic,
it’s a role i can well play.
and as cadence beats arrhythmic
to my pulse thumping songs i can barely
stomach
in my chest cavity’s empty squalor of a nest;
i think to myself what a cage love can
become for us to live
in.
what abuse aortic walls are forever withstanding.
the point of this is nothing.
it’s now or never
to which i am forever
approaching.
there is nothing to see
the extremities of my body began to numb
under thin blanket of night’s cold
while spring grew delicately along anorexic
limbs branching from all the darkened
trees with their color of dried blood.
watched phantoms dance in
a cigarette’s smoke,
and for the first time truly felt
the weight that is marrow filling my
bones.
and with cancer hanging, dangling
like an after thought—
or executioner’s victim convicted—
from the edge of my parted
lips
i curled my limbs in,
to my chest
looking like a baby bird
so weak and frighteningly new.
seeing finally what a mess of a life i
call mine for living.
such is life, now
my toes curl into little arcs.
like tiny white moons of
gibbous bone.
i have my feet planted firmly
upon the soil that lays beneath
my resting soul’s trench of sleep.
i had quite a heavy head hanging
from the points of my shoulders
today.
trying to dream-catch the
nightmares and twist their necks to
snapping.
i found i cannot stand alone,
without turning my heart and my
head into limestone.
what is this tender place we live in,
my love?
i will lay with you under every strange
sky
while we feel the unknown earth trace
along the question marks of our spines.
i go nowhere now,
without you at my side.
run little rabbit, run
the great sea shudders and cries,
for miles, unwinding. glazed
with gleam of sun’s light burning,
upon the surface of the waves.
i felt my eyes turn timid
at the roar of the lions’—their
mouths full of sharpened
pearls. hungry.
wanting the taste of my bones.
to consume me,
to make me theirs.
i was alone at the island’s torn
edge,
the treeline’s soft sway
telling secrets at my spine.
that sea ending the world,
spoke of no escape, only
ever turning back.
