Assorted Poems
by the sea
sing to me o pallid river
o broken body o crimson hound
hold and break o pallid river
I sing to you
I sing to you
untitled 2
A threshold that would suckle broken flesh,
bones,
and the rest.
a dream i had once
im sitting in the reeds
i think the stars hate me
or
they dont know my name
and sing only yours
bad night
but i write and i think in each of those words i hope to find you
or speak of you
or speak to you
i unfocus my eyes, look to the periphery, like i taught myself to look for figures in dark
you're not there either
1st law
and claw the ash from my eyes
to see no flicker of flame
only your silhouette
eclipsed
and it
...grows grows grows grows grows grows grows...
in a perfect system there is no loss of energy
only conversion
to bile
at the back of my throat
and then back to you
grows.
You unfurl forever in this moment,
shattered
grows.
reformed
I inhabit the space between two perfect frames
to wonder if I will blink and see you
To know that again i'll stand
Skylight
The audience is small tonight
Open the skylight
Don your mask (three faced)
Dancers move in furtive arcs
Honey fissures from their eyes
Remember the words
Daub them on your skin
In the quiet breaths, when their legs alight the ground,
I can
almost
hear
the
buzzing
Lone violinist
each note a call to fury
Wings vibrate behind my eyes, too fervant to ignore
One of the dancers stumbles
Falls.
To his hands.
To the ground.
The others,
Do not pause.
Applause.
it is kind to know the taste of honey.
To change
Let light burn through.
In the fire. Spires? Illuminated in silhouette
You will get so much brighter still.
Ever brighter behind your eyelids - let them burn. fall away.
So much brighter, ever brighter.
Speak the words that burn and melt and change.
Bones burn and melt and reform and change.
a promise in the way you arc, in its hollowness
the mold by which to be reforged
a promise in the bite of molten steel
the words you spoke like heat and pain
Tidepools
Im scared that im the fish your dad points out to you when you're 8 on a family trip
(the last)
to the coast.
Dead, drying in the sun.
Maggots already churning, aching, as partners to a final dance.
Did it know?
Or does it hope, that with each wave
each triumphant wave
that lifts me so that I may nearly glimpse the sea,
that i will return
from this mirror
Or
Did it too, never learn better, did it ever hope
falling each time upon jagged rocks
and wonder
how the sun could seem so distant
Untitled
stone tombed it sleeps
feel it in the gentle hum of earth
spires of stone ache toward hollow sky
begging
a final congregation
huddled silent mass without preacher nor bishop
music in their curves and fire in their fissures
mold myself to them, their perfect example
skin to stone bone to purpose heart to faith
rain erodes doubt, time rends fear
reach toward the sky
sing the song in the hum of eternity
wait for it to wake