Slow-burn to Graceland
I am wooden:
Porous,
pulpating.
Floating,
drifting; waterfalling
sap.
And, honey,
my branches can’t reach
clarity.
Homes are made
of me, my nature
is to unmove. To undo
the amber fox’s wedding vows.
The fawn’s Godmother;
barks,
hearkens the rain for a blessing.
Angels bathe in tears.
Use that cloudburst
for baptism.
Palms drip
the gospel of Imhotep
upon foreheads in
Tennessee.
Converting nonbelievers
to
children
of the forest.
Purge:
a retreat into cavernous
gate,
my humble heart
with archways, spread-eagle
for the ivy to copulate with
stone. Bricks trembling
like piano keys that don’t match
my locked potential.
Vibrating laptop speaker,
you’re so well integrated into
this world of mine. I’m too
tapped in
to notice the beat is tracing
my pulse like a chalk-outline.
In the empty
spaces, in the fragments
of light and shadow;
there, float & trickle the embers.
Fire places an importance
on silence.
Miracle of friction, man-made
by masturbating a tree’s arm
& pebble. Something cosmic reaches
deep inside of us when we
come to this alter. This
portal to our self.
We commune with pixel spirits,
pesky sprites of lore. But, there’s
solace in the heat lost
when the ram tossed their
borrowed antlers into the pit.
Rage: the unwanted soul,
laced with passion,
can only be deleted
when Grace: the devoted god,
empty of ecstasy,
is wiped
from the screen.
Right side up
(> = right side page)
my
emotion s
a r e n o t
on
t
a
p
so,
h
o
p
TF
o
f
f
spout sprinkling
tongue dripping
toxic forest I call tufts of hair
curling in their ecstatic
rage
scattered featherweight
bones rattling cage
screaming release me from
this stone-sprout mirage
clouding my eyes
seye ym gniduolc
egarim tours-enots siht
morf em esaeler gnimaercs
egac gnilttar senob
thgiewrehtaef derettacs
egar
citatsce rieht ni gnilruc
riah fo stfut llac I tserof cixot
gnippird eugnot
gnilknirps tuops
f
f
o
p
o
h
os,
p
a
t
no
t o n e r a
s noitome
ym
Signs of love,, like a __
She wakes up in the middle
of the night
to listen to me breathe she
says « I love you » like a
three word check in or a
thermometer checking background
radiation or a
new planet for
signs of life.
He hyper- texts me job- adds
like a single digit
knowing it’s alien- status
intrudes with unwelcome tears.
Next time, dial zero
for help.
Baker wriggles his foot a tongue
in the black space of the lamp
lit table like
antenae of worker ants
excavating the organ molded
on cliffside, by blood- acid rain.
I hover over this silent room
a group chat a scary set back
unraveling thread we
don’t want
to recognize.
Momma – lyrics
oil sheds such a
rainbow sheen on you
we sever our golden thread
covering sky blues
but we can dance in
night
when the summer slaps
the beat too hard
and momma tilts her
winter snaps
cold – rubber
Why can’t Tori sing?
Make me a day, make me
whole
again…
My mother told me
when I was fresh plucked
from the sky: « You hear
but you don’t
listen. »
I communed with her words
mortar & pestled them with
lungfist & millheart.
Now this ingredient is
powder; digestif.
Time
Thought I’d make friends
with time
When a woman opens
her mouth,
listen. The voice alone
rings a sirenic truth,
primordial lessons. C’mon,
take it from Eve. Fruitfire &
appleseeds.
{ One y I } the fish out of water – revised / undone
Arms of water pulled me. Here, I don’t care to breathe.
I was murky. I was Ionian.
No sea witch could cure this
curse.
Old bait & lure.
I was found covered in bacteria
birthed by barnacle mouths.
I; a fish in need of flying lessons,
shed old lovers who’d never been lovers.
Bed covers covered in
seamen who don’t
understand
“that you don’t
reprimand,” your … ghosts.
Wind sure still has a lot to learn,
about staying in one place.
Fèy Mebratu 