1 Poetry

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tpu
tpu 01 Feb 2019 Tag: Winter

A Through the Wood and White.

Urđr calls to me like fire, in a dream through the wood and white. Her face, as black smoke, crawling over the reach and pine peaks. She stands, wading the blaze, sapping the flame of its' warmth and light. Deeds, joy and meaning, empty, side by side we watch them die....

tpu
tpu 01 Nov 2018 Tag: Halloween

A The Grave of Gold Mountain.

+---+ "Legend been told, 'long as men been countin' 'bout many a fool. Comin' down to gold mountain. Diggin' up coal, gems, ore and oil fountains, 'yes, many a spoil. Hidin' down in the mountain. Dynamite blasts, picks and hammers poundin' tunnels and shafts. Deep down...

saintedmad
saintedmad 19 Oct 2018 Tag: sacrosancti

A halo of bees

^ each day is the learning to be human. a low note graceful and hungry in my throat, to eat of visions, of love lined in undereye black. somewhere, i am nazareth; fallen on my eyes full of prairie sermons and writhing, the grass crawling up my thighs to some slow thrum of...

saintedmad
saintedmad 07 Sep 2018 Tag: dreamstate

A exquisite honeycomb

… thread robin blue dying and a stitched quilt of small prisons containing birds and little dutch girls. once i was watched. patchwork tourniquet and blindfold. the gospels spill the blood best and these hollow eyes and lungs say such things bemoaning beasts and breasts...

saintedmad
saintedmad 08 Jul 2018 Tag: unpoetry

A middlesex

just a leaf on the street trembling, but i undo myself. i most likely should conjure this in third person to make it seem less disturbing, but, i am bloodletting you know there is some blurry psychosis in which i feel comfort able. my poetic emptiness can wait. the very...

tpu
tpu 08 Jul 2018 Tag: Fuckthesun

A Fire Folk

+--+ O' Father! Fire, summer sky, smoldering scourge of light. Oppressor, on high. Hear me, O' sire! O' burning blessed blight! Sink down and die! Your children ache, and lust to bathe in the blood of twilight. ......

saintedmad
saintedmad 25 May 2018 Tag: sacrosancti

A retracing infinity & other unheard beautiful...

part 13: the great swallowing begins here. my first lesson-- how heavy hunger starves you out. i watch the never again . ... the dead dance in the wild darkness-- in the wanton emptiness--- do i dare stay inside eternity? listen to me scratching the sign of your eyes' earth....

saintedmad
saintedmad 14 May 2018 Tag: confession

A dawn

I hate that you called her beautiful which means i never really was.

Ashe
Ashe 16 Feb 2018 Tag:

A I threw our baby in the trash can.

It could have been beautiful, Your eyes and my something (Not much of note, to be honest) I Bled away the chances Of what could have been Growing tall Or maybe Being Sort of half ginger, Chameleon eyes and unpredictable We were lost In a fleeting second A potential memory Of...

tpu
tpu 31 Jan 2018 Tag: Winter

A Evergreen.

+--+ Bruma. Come, steal me the sun and bury away it's glow in smoke, ash and coal. Cover me in cold. Ice and frost, silver and snow... Harden mind and soul. As before and ever shall be the pillars that held my dreams. Pine. Tall....

saintedmad
saintedmad 25 Jan 2018 Tag: sacrosanct

A this is the part where my words get long

still it isnt enough to be at the place where someone crossed my heart offswiftly; those summers linger with fingers so hot they feel cool, so i remember for a minute. never am i sure of why i need more words to assuage the way i see, even, of course now, and of course then, the...

saintedmad
saintedmad 09 Jan 2018 Tag: personal

A ancrene wisse

to finalise it, my fingers shake. i knew i was something where humans kiss and do not.... never again shall i resemble everything.. the rapid inconsequence of no words wears my skin. i imagine you can see my skull by now and i move with stories of flowers found headless. what...

Ashe
Ashe 08 Jan 2018 Tag:

A The greater good.

It ended the way it began. In a bottle Easy come, easy go. Words stumbling off of chapped lips Dying in the january twilight I saw the embers Of carefully constructed maybes Slip away. Ash among the resting places bordering dreams and nothing. I Knew better than this.

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A vigor

Masculinity is leather-bound hands holding you closed, taut skin, how he taught you to hold your mouth as a purse-string, drawn together so no one can steal from you; a pocket full of loose change, lost marbles, mouth so full of bees; they'll sting you if you let them. Keep your tongue...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A delicate

Femininity is pressed flower petals in your grandmother’s tabletop bible, hand-me-down to your mother, probably won’t ever make it to your hands; it nests under the coffee table your father made for her so many years ago from the oak trees whose memory you never had the pleasure of...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: love

A a memo about matrimony

There will be nights where you feel like your love is a crumbling artifact, a memento of time before children, before bills, before the rent was so high that it rivaled your anxieties about money; they will come when your husband falls asleep on the couch and does not come to bed. They will...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A the sound of salt

Floating— saltwater soak; ocean air, breathing serenity into overactive lungs. I can hear the sea crashing, wavewhite into water-smoothed, weather beaten rocks and she is laughing.

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A rain-damp

Anne Sexton is on my nightstand when I tell you I am too tired to get out of bed. My bones are damp with rain and heavy with ache, waterlogged, and it storms every day now; such is the nature of autumn in Pennsylvania. I listen to the raindrops, count them, and...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A of the people who have made impressions

One was pale skin and freckles, hair as copper as the pennies you’d pressed into your palms, sweat on your chest, fogged car windows, making it home by curfew. Always PG13, always wondering if you were enough to be loved, always wondering why he didn’t hunger for your body like the...

Miss Dahlia
Miss Dahlia 31 Dec 2017 Tag: lost

A echoing of gunshots

*in memoriam i. Ambulance screams past the diner where I am waiting tables, waiting for a better chance at something, anything. Someone listening to their police scanners tells me it’s a gunshot wound. I assume I don’t know them....

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