voice glissading gliding on synth waves neon and novocaine – heroine heartache naked beneath the colors
Tag: Poetry
Unrequited – A Sedoka
would you drift with me chariot beset with fire deliquesce your icy heart – the chill of winter remains unyielding despite your efforts to stoke the flame
Flooded Beaches
on flooded beaches sea life strewn upon the shore gasping their last breath – the moon hangs above clouds pass like windswept petals blackening the sky – out upon the waves a ship wrecks and no one knows corpses crowned with foam – deep sea songs echo cries of the damned harmonize drifting on the…
Your Hand
withdraw your hand that one you insist upon extending take it back unto yourself – i shirk your proffered intimacy fleeing towards frigid wastes of estrangement – tenuous ties fraying whilst the fibers fail prelude to its plummeting mass – behold my broken shell and hidden jelly lined interior frail and enfeebled bleeding out onto…
Star Crossed Dodoitsu
heaven and earth between us orbits never aligning cold and lonely heart of space star crossed lovers lost
Lost Hours
waking to see the day is lost scattered to the wind beyond the plains of dreams forgotten behind lids of eyes scorched and bloodshot wincing light peeking through falling dark once more hours chased away by ravenous sleep swallowing whole all of today tomorrow bleeding through the veil lifted caught in the palm of lost…
Blood and Milk – A Cento
her kiss was like an adder’s fang all naked in the moon. beak into it. it would hover there, ghostly still, the blood and the milk hidden their release wetting ours – then, as if breathing, the sea swelled beneath us. if you must know anything it truly must take nothing but grief to turn…
The Field – A Cento
i approach a field. a black piano waits cypress and golden rose, plucked at the chill sunsetting, laurel, amaracus, and dark december vine on the uncovered flesh of anyone brave going back to the root is stillness chilled in the path of darkness asking to be bent, taken by firelight freedom from fear, purity of…
Crying With the Wind
i sat by the window and it was cold that night but i let the air in anyway billowing past ruffling my blackout shade thudding with a rumbling rippling until at last settling once more on the chipping egg white of the pitted frame – it made me uncomfortable but i found comfort in that…
Finding It
if i ever make it i’m not sure how i’ll take it – will i find myself humble magnanimous gracious in victory or perhaps flaunt my good fortune sinking sparkling silver knives and forks into prime cuts of only the most savory meats tossing scraps into the bowls of mangy mongrels who scorned me –…
Piecework Prose 