Wednesday, September 30, 2009

to become

just as a marshland
is an industrial
boom of
homeward bound silks around our wrists,
so exists self-addressed envelopes
with no return addresses

constellations are overlapping,
causing brilliant images to appear-
however, our eyes are closed and we could not notice:
the seams between the stars,
discarded inks,
clay jars.

(at seven, i was a decadent soldier)
i made tea: a stable, a harness, a beating of bones, featherbeds, promise rings, sunday mornings, walking downtown, a pile knit- i am late

Friday, September 25, 2009

circa sept. 2009, re: wintertimes, seven

It was our hair there, the smell of sleep-
hot cocoa fluttering up around all us as a silk garment
her voice,
a clashing of pans
Coffee beans being crushed into red, sweet earth
violins screeching
wind rustling between my knees.
There are tree branches,
A thousand suns exploding in my throat;
nails continually being dug into my side.
(Old wood, blood, liquid metal as beads of sweat
camping in each bud) My arms as pillows,
the mug warming my hands, but wool blankets are like soil-
"moss in my hands, moss in my hands, moss in my hands," I keep thinking,
but all I hear is buzzing silence

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

a refuge of iron,
humbled stones-
you told us, "raise your eyes to the north!"
a final deed to
salute, or
sacrifice, your
young to him; what
if it were i who perished?
she told me it was downtown, a memoir turned fable,
an antique shop, a harbor,
yearning to be ripped apart by You
called but i didn't answer (accidentally)
called, you did- out into the air
for me, you called!
for me, you called.
(i forgot)
how long before this continuity becomes (deceased? desire)
i possess to own a given love,
seeing you lying there
holding the same desire, but reciprocated (to love,)
so let us rejoice like steeds throughout wild,
multiply our love as bacteria rustling through blue-green waters.
wondering, "how deep a love can be restored?"
(answered without saying) a word.
beyond your glances i see a dark satisfaction,
i desire to be
as you are but am unsure where to begin. to share like you would be incredible, i am (still, as i pointed out before) unable to see past stagnant marshes behind fluttered eyelids.