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
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
A Child’s Laugh [Haiku]
Splitting sky down the middle
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
if we venerate our arrow heads. These
boxes we put around our schedules
as we gallop through cocaine white
fields of paper, can be
by tattooing our
veins with inconsequence…
october 17} revised
a blind man would notice the
way i looked
halfway down the stairs you
spun me about face
in that moment we were
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
this edible silence
I swallowed like pride.
Enjoy the bouquet of
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
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
,; ,;;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
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,
DID MY LOVE
NOT REACH UR
GREASY MONEY MUNCHING
CHEEKS? DARK HAIR
& BONES WILL NOT
HOW DARE U
STEP TO ME. IN MY
HOME; MY HEARTLAND.
WE WADED SWAMP
WE GATHERED SAND,
SCRAPING & GRINDING OUR
U THINK UBERING
BACK TO HELLFIRE
WILL ERASE U?
AM I TO CHASE
EXCREMENT & FECIES?
GTFO, YOU INVASIVE SPECIES.