I exist as a witness a
stuttered protrusion within
deadmolasses mountainfog a
marble
in your worried mouth but
you remain a
queen
covered in wrought iron threads
desireless and
adored.
flowers tremble weeks before the storm hits always
slow to speak fusing
time and worth
into an ivy
archway.
“hollywood, california”
exposition; paramedics climb the hills to find
mounds of dusted body bags.
each of bag contained outfits to
represent all of my favorite idols.
turning point; models with lazy eyes speak of
brief encounters with
my typecast persona.
complication; after two years, they remember
a face.
climax; i listen to the sound of car crashes
and wonder about
the diegesis of my own life.
action; within the funeral wakes i stirred
within my own
body.
resolution; framed and set aside, i admit to
pining for a
brand new life.
i bury myself
in rotten red sand.
snow-covered boots entered at
the patio door.
the living room contained an oath breaker,
whispered to by lovers and
spiritual vessels. but God’s love
had came and
gone. never once a warning
from the chain of
command. kids called him jack Frost,
cold as ice.
"hubris"
red buds
blossomed around her clavicle. she
spoke of things that had
gone terribly
wrong. his hands were reminiscent
of tourists- unwanted and
ghost-like. flies collected around
the bedside,
simply to sing the blues.
"coveted"
burning remains
of sedans and pick-ups litter cracked grey roads.
children cup their hands to catch
embers like falling snow.
God’s left and claimed the love
we gave years ago.
all of our blankets line
pine boxes.
your pale legs curl up in mine beneath
old crimson sheets. we stare straight through
sunset looking at runaway trains.
our laughs were reminiscent of an orphan’s
joy. the thick
heat
smothered us for days and days.
“little bird hymns”
trails of carcinogens drift through the halls
around
the lamplight. tonight, i cannot answer you.
your frail skeleton represents everything
i am not. it twists and folds to the sound of
heavy breathing.
wet lips and a devil’s smirk in the mirror,
you held your necklace and prayed
for courage.
comforters and sheets wrapped
themselves around
your legs. one photo a day,
i promised you that.
“ruptures, fractures”
he followed the wandering star into
a stable configuration of
constellations. orbiting rock and
gas kept the secrets he uttered
safe and
warm amidst the hollow
skulls of celestial bodies.
each of his atoms
formed into a doorway into
primordial knowledge.
specks of light dripped from
his fingertips and collected into
tiny droplets for the
desiccated mouths below.
“above all men, swans”
in october we rode in
unwashed sailboats along a
grey coastline mapping our future homes.
you spoke of how much you
despised old friends
and how our breath was drawn
together in the same manner as all
other dangerous things. i cleared the
dust from my sunday suit and waited
for your
waves to crash all over me.
“passing glimpse”
forgive me, but through the
curtains i saw your innocence.
it’s freezing outside and i’m tired of
watching shadows of old lovers
from park benches.
you exist as an angel in
transit.haplessly swallowed by the
open mouths of light from starscapes above.
it’s freezing on the inside. there was never
a moment we shared, but your silhouette
tells stories.
"bodies in beds"
little, cobalt animals creep across the
rafters watching our restless souls dance
and clamor across the stage. they wait
for us to reveal private moments of suffering as
we sit in oak rocking chairs nurturing the
dichotomy of suffering. between the walls
our demons play cellartunes the way they’ve
played for years. this time i meet them
with open arms.
"bishop"
we marched to the water hand in
hand and we howled as wolves
howled inches from the sea. the
bishop pressed his lips to
cold sand and collapsed into the
shape of a pagan constellation.
he,
above all men,
had been planning this for years. shards
of ice carried in
from oceanic waves froze around our bare
skin. each of us lay sprawled across permafrost
laughing and smiling at cross-bearing apparitions.
“polarity”
our hands glide over a map
of paths we won’t
follow. drawers
filled with medicine we refuse to
swallow.
distant and faithless, we
assumed silver waves would
wash it all away
we drew lines in wet sand to
count our positive qualities.
we remained late bloomers.
cash register bells and overhead jingles
pour into my ears in
varying sequences. i watch as the lives of
saints deteriorate and sunshine fills the
potholes. the drawer falls and change
spills out onto the floor. clocked in,
punched out.
thank god for worker bees.
effigies of former lovers decorate
the garden in the backyard. tiny,
stone concubines poised and naked.
smiles replaced with grinding teeth,
i keep each of them in my fingers.
cold statues amongst flowers in sterile serenity,
they are all just strangers i knew.
i watched a young couple dance
across the beach
at sundown. church bells rang overhead;
the dissonant sound caused my face
to crack like glass.
you asked the priest to light
candles for your lost ambitions.
another toast to another happy couple.
