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marblei don't think you notice me
borrowing your skin like it's paper
and copying the wordless poetry onto it
until you're covered in half-thoughts and
unfulfilled sensations i can only wonder about
in the ceiling clippings that drift down on me like snow
until i can find something that feels of flesh
i'm leaning on you when you're across the room.
your eyes on me.
our elbows touch on the table.
i feel all those things like sprigs of pine needles,
drying out, dying in my hands, unable to return to
and even paper
can be cold
when you're sliding down its surface
for lack of purchase, like
if it never reminds you that it's alive,
that it has thoughts,
that it can want you or not
how do you know the difference?
how do you remember?
10 hoursTen hours of sleep just wasn’t enough,
Ten hours just wasn’t enough
I got so tired ten hours of sleep
Wasn’t enough to wake me up
The coffee is cold bitter mud today,
The coffee is thick as mud,
Ain’t no sugar to sweeten it up,
The coffee is thick bitter mud.
Lately it’s cold like the walls are cardboard,
It’s cold inside and out,
The wind blows through the seams in this box,
It’s cold both inside and out
Work’s got my feet achin today
Works up my ankles and knees
I’m on my feet the whole damn day
Work’s got me achin today
I get home at night and I can’t sleep
I’m so tired but I can’t sleep
I drop my bones back into bed
But I can’t get my brain to sleep
early fallI don’t know what happened,
I was sure it would be a couple of months
Before everything started hurting again
Three days of something worth confessing
That got lost on the last night when he said to keep in touch.
I was sad in the wrong way,
Too sick for free medicine
She kept inching me aside
To stand next to him
Until finally I gave up.
They were inseparable.
I drove the speed limit the whole way home
The dialogue in my head
Pressing in like stamps or brands or eyes,
Something deep and wonderful pushed the color aside,
I don’t know how you see out of those,
I couldn’t help but be dazzled.
Everything is always better yesterday.
There’s only once I was actually as happy as I remember being.
Now starts a chorus of “It’ll be okay.”
It’ll be okay, before there’s a single brick on my shoulder,
Give it a month, give it three
How will I ever stay standing.
Probably the withdrawal,
I miss the winter that freezes the ai
aphroditeclambering lips tumble over each other like
little deer stumbling into the headlights, where
blushing cupid's bows snap shut at the slightest
whisper of a touch; as summer's broken blossom
whistles into moss, suicidal and free-falling at a
twist of the wind, dripping through honeyed-hands and
trickling down wrists. words nuzzle breath, the air
staved of acoustics that choreograph faces closer; watching as
quivering eyes thrust new-born hope, where
restless hearts knock beneath a web of ribs,
screaming silently as bodies are poured into the
stitches of aphrodite's venomo(us) fly-trap.
PersephoneI fed her
and she cried
at every frozen sunrise
for 180 days.
With cracks in my heart
caught in my hair
I counted 180 more.
ZemiThings having to be returned to their transparency:
/ 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.
astronomerswhen we're together
dusk is containable; the moon in my palms
and the stars on your ceiling.
we lull the city to sleep
with our theories of life; my tongue curling
do you remember,
when Jupiter was a silver wick, lighting its countless moons?
you balanced a cigarette off your lips,
and I watched the vermillion flame burn life
as a newborn sun;
planets moulding and constellations snaked
above our eyes.
what it would be like to be curled
inside the embers creator and destroyer
so close to your lips.
Let the Sparrows InI.
Blackbirds rest on the power lines,
their silhouettes form the notation
to a dawn song set on the sheet music
of telephone poles contrasted by the sun.
Curled leaves are land mines littered
on the lawn where imprints of twigs
and a nurturing robin's tracks collect.
Branchlets and leaflets stem from
porch step railings and mailboxes;
the numbers read odd on the east,
even on the west side of the asphalt:
The engraved letters on
the siding reads, "Davis."
This house is home to family
so let the sparrows in.
with its branching hallways
furniture rooted to the floor
family, friends, the occasional
out from home.
Let the sparrows in; let
Let the door's
loosen—let the door stand ajar
be let open
the night owls and
let the doves
in pairs in the iridescent
Let the sparrows in.
Framed on either side
Unfold, Part IIHear me read it
My bones are creaking.
I hear them gossiping while I sleep,
and they talk of me.
They call me maddened.
They say that the blackness,
the ravenous cave, has devoured me.
They talk of me,
as if I am not here. Am I?
This was my safe space,
In the warmth of my own breath
Now it cages me.
My fingernails grow so long
That they pierce through the paper
and my eyes go wide to see
fragmented light once more.
Isaiahdid you hope with me, Isaiah?
or did I merely dream the days of our stand;
of red strings, of stardust,
of too-small hands & too-long hair,
& of the words, the words, the words
(the ones you had me
believe you were worth)
for it was you who said,
"go big or go home.
I will give you the world,
or nothing at all.
this, I promise to you."
so dear to me, the vowels & the verbs,
the air hissing through
your teeth: gateways
to a barren land
like wind through the trees,
like ghosts through the tombstones.
have you left me, Isaiah?
I travel north & farther north, still,
for humans do, subconsciously,
but you are nowhere to be found
except in the silence.
& never have I ever known
such a selfish, selfish boy,
would warm himself with my faith
then snuff it out
with no change
of light in his eyes
I am a cup, & your words
are not water, but dead earth.
& so you will always have
a part of me
did you love me, Isaiah?
for it was heartbreak
the room smelled of paint and chocolate;
a stain that won’t wash out no matter how vigorously you grate,
no matter how deeply you peel.
“Mothers never cry when their boys run towards large army tanks, and fishermen never weep when they return home with nothing.” These were my forced whispers in her ear.
ticking antiques and wooden furnishing,
a land flowing with silk and money.
it was no consolation.
pain still trickled through.
I told her that I don’t kiss women on the mouth, and by day I left her to her own thoughts. That’s when she finally listened and stopped her crying.
i have sorely learned
that when love bleeds out of his emancipating violence,
the man becomes god.
She substituted her sobbing with writing. I planned to toss her diary into the crackling fire when she wasn’t looking.
i longed to run away on raw hands and feet
in dark blue jeans.
but instead i watched him
Sandsweptsmall sacrifices that
one lick sucked me dry
your desert tongue was a curse
nature called out gentleness
but instead we went dancing
i turned down antlers for diamonds
stole hooves from her womb
collected the beads between her breasts
and sold them for cheap copper
until I lay at your feet - panting
and between the tendons on your ankles
were lipstick stains
you wired my throat
to accept your feigned apologies
like telephone lines
my vocal cords severed in the gale
then your hoarfrost bones
leaving a thirst for sand
I found your crater-grave
buried in the cleft of my thigh
now with my forked tongue
lapping the rolling dunes
I am the serpent
owning the desert you abandoned
sleepless- On Growing UpSome days drip slowly
Over the edges of the earth,
Leaving us like an itch in tired eyes
As you blink away what you have
In exchange for water and
On these days,
There's nothing you can do.
Everything has an echo, and everything
Rolls off you as waves.
Death seems quiet, until it's news
Strikes like a church bell
Knocked accidentally and off the hour.
Setting aside the simile
And the gore of the thing, death is quiet, I think.
A complete retreat into ourselves until we're so deep
We're out of ourselves and back
In the bellies of stars.
And it's indeed been a long day
When we resign ourselves to our fears.
dead dog julyI.
the summer heat lays limp in the city’s lap,
breathing long oppressive breaths.
it does not even lift its lolling head
to bark out hoarse indignancy
when a strange man brings the mail.
there might be heavy rain today,
brought by some swollen, murmuring cloud.
the world will whirl and howl,
then settle down,
to die a little more.
o, quickly, love,
press your back against the wall in fear
as the universe spreads her arms and
shuts her eyes
and starts to summon the end of all things.
come with me
to the place of windows full of speechless afternoon
hot windy whispers of half-formed solutions and resolutions,
sweltering sunlit meadows we’ll wander and then forget.
o quickly, love,
let’s to the season of forgetting
and unwind all of our harshest memories
and fill the universe’s mouth
with mute cotton.
i’ll whisper these words to you some evening
with all my exigency in the hand i rest on your arm—
AndromedaAmongst the darkened skies
Brightened by only starlight
Field & Sea.
Gravity is only an afterthought
Hilltops become ladders into the sky while
Inferior planets stare down upon the Earth
Jealous of such simplicity yet contemplating grandeur.
Keppler only thought of science
Linear, elliptical, movement…
Mythology had no such thoughts
Neptune & Nebulas both inhabit space
Orbiting across the lonely darkness
Probably never worried about mundane things
Questioning their existence
Right now or for all eternity such as us.
Shooting stars make us joyful while
Terminator is an otherworldly spectacle
Unknown to all those hidden in their houses
Various stars await us outside
Waiting to play like we did before
Xenagogue & inviting
Youthful but ancient curiosities.
Zenith induced euphoria continues until daylight…
Transformers: We Came in WarTransformers: We Came in War
Setting: Sometime during the Bay films
Characters: Optimus Prime
We came to this planet because ours was gone.
The quest for power consumed our home. The need for domination destroyed us. Still we live, and yet there is a piece in each of us that has been decimated forever. We will never recover what we have lost.
I look down upon this planet, and I wonder why we try.
It is evident by now that we have lost the capacity for peace. War follows in our wake. We came to retrieve the AllSpark, which has long since been lost, and we are still here. All that came of attempting to revive our planet was the relocation of the war from our planet of death to this planet of life. There is so much life on this planet. All of it we have sworn to protect. This is the promise we have made to them. But the promise would not need to have been made if we had never co
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