Behind Thin Walls

Oh, I didn’t see you there. Welcome to our

home. The window panes are sloped so I don’t

spend my day staring at a rubbled alley. An occasional

seagull, with ink dipped wings and truth dipped bill, comes 

delivering Oceana’s secrets.

Guitar strings hang from our rafter ceiling;

they coil clockwise to stay warm, and drop

woolen autumn on our heads. 

Our paper mâché home is complete with tin

carvings of trains⟶if you wait patiently, and

think hard enough, they chug along tracks

steaming our faces. Useful, right? Oh, don’t

touch that spot, can’t you see it’s sore?

If you caress it gently, it calms right down. There,

now where was I? Ah, yes. Isn’t the moon lovely,

in their dress? The clouds make a warm shawl.

Those jewels are heirlooms I asked to borrow

some night.

We have a piece of their sun in every corner

to keep our eyes open. Do you fancy a drink?

We keep two Aquarians in our ice box,

so they stay in the past. My twin doesn’t

care for them, but enjoys their gifts.

Our floor was a silver fish, cold to the touch

when we moved in.

So, we gathered foliage from every colored plume

and painted them with sin, emeralds, turmeric 

dust. Stop! You’re leaning on the wall too much!

Your shoulder shouldn’t sink against it. Oh! 

Now you’ve gone and done it. Now we have to

clean up this mess. After we get all the

junk we stuffed, back behind our assemblage.

Plaster some band-aids, and hide the churning.

It isn’t quite vintage yet, but we were saving old fights.

The voices and the yearning could

start a fire. You never know how lonely you get,

until you start using anger to keep you company.

Alright, that’s enough. Wining and dining could stain the foliage.

So, let’s just tape this hole shut before

something ugly falls out. It’s been a while

since the storage was this full,

and my home was this

empty.

A Child’s Laugh [Haiku]

Sleeping memory

Splitting sky down the middle

Lightning Tunneling

unhome

I woke up in a strange place  My mother had

tucked me into bed  The moon was dripping

red  & adorned in cherry pit  Casm  Deep

An ocean of juiced pomegranate hearts  Dropping

seeds off at preschool  Punctuality has no place

in poetry  So  forget ticking astronomy

Rewind ovarian smile  Mothers beg for

the shattered glass spirits  Leave them

Weavable tapestries  Glow-worm behind 

sunlight  Casting stains along the tired chapel floor 

Give in to the light-bearer  Peace on string

Luciferian solstice  Understanding of the dark 

promises no illumination  So  perhaps  falling

stars must be chased  Night sky  Calls for geminid

showers  Flitting about  Humming birds with

unearthly glow  Sharing shingle arms

This odyssey isn’t over  You cast your heavy anchor eyes  and catch no fish 

There is no nourishment if the bruised blackness remains 

Unexposed film on countertop  Doors wilt when

you leave them closed  Too long  Knock twice

I don’t think she heard you  I don’t think she hears

us saying her name  Jezebell  Jezebell Jezebell

Call it off

« Hi, this is Fey. I’m calling to let you know

something’s come up; I have to cancel

my interview for today. » The rendezvous;

a momentary lapse in time. A crime that

must be punished. A chronological 

perversion. I wear the face of medusa

on my wrist. These boxes we put around

our bodies can be

penetrated

if we venerate our arrow heads. These

boxes we put around our schedules

as we gallop through cocaine white

fields of paper, can be

penetrated

by tattooing our 

veins with inconsequence…

october 17} revised 

a blind man would notice the 

way i looked 

at you.

halfway down the stairs you 

spun me about face
to yours..

in that moment we were 

withering leaves 

pirouetting…

your hand  

on my lower back screamed  Venus

your puncturing voice whispered  Pluto….

this was our square, the light years
betwixt night sky

& your window

october 2018 revisited 

We were the liminality;

a hushed finality on your lips &

a tipping scale

over your guest

restroom toilet, into which

cosmic vomit spilled

my guts filled our

spaces

better than

this edible silence

I swallowed like pride.

Enjoy the bouquet of

my absence.

It’s preserved by the

saltwater between continents.

Or rather, the saltwater

rivering my face.

Hey, I couldn’t let it

stain your floor, so

I found a ladder,

& climbed out

of stagnation.

But, I left you

my old name

at the door.

& [the sun smoked himself to sleep] & – unrevised

( i hearken the spark of sunshine you salivate

 i am an unwatered seed 

of affection

,; ,;;awaiting radiance;;, ;,

 the dew drop that will activate

our insides / \ our reflections

do you notice these gradients?

 gods cry & devils dance

 what a beautiful connection

water knows the power: the introspection.

take a chance

 you gorgeous misconception )

Mr. Busy Bee revisited

I LEFT THE LOWER CASE

OF U

IN THE PAST. AND I BREAK

THROUGH THESE PIXELS

[CALL IT THE 5th WALL

THAT COULDN’T LAST].

DID THE SOIL CLOG UR

PORES & UR HEART?

AM I UR MUSE,

UR INSPIRATION?

DID MY LOVE

NOT REACH UR

GREASY MONEY MUNCHING

CHEEKS? DARK HAIR

& BONES WILL NOT

DISTRACT

POLLINATORS.

HOW DARE U

STEP TO ME. IN MY

HOME; MY HEARTLAND.

WE WADED SWAMP

WE GATHERED SAND,

TETHERED. AFTER

SCRAPING & GRINDING OUR

INTENTIONS TOGETHER,

U THINK UBERING 

BACK TO HELLFIRE

WILL ERASE U?

AM I TO CHASE

EVERY MOOD

RELEASED?

WHAT’S NEXT? 

EXCREMENT & FECIES?

GTFO, YOU INVASIVE SPECIES.