There’s a reason
why Valentine’s Day is
a day to remember martyrs,
and so witnessed by the observant
in an exchange of words
inscribed on make believe hearts.
A reason why we kneel... why knees
are beaten by submission under flowers
that beautify our loves in
When one lays tile,
it’s a rather simple task…
sticking the hard against the soft
then watching it turn hard, too.
Filling the gaps with a creamy
thickness that swallows up the air
filling the spaces between surfaces.
Knowing that there’s gonna be
something pretty beneath the...
Multifarious stains streak
the pitch and ebb
of my midnight comforter,
soiling another twilight,
with pale splotches of lunacy
rising just to fall
coming just to go
like conversations without
words without feeling…
“Ah, Pythagoras’ metempsychosis, were that true
this soul should fly from me, and I be chang’d
unto some brutish beast” Marlowe, Faustus.
Were it that I a beast of your burdens,
the wretched to take upon shoulders
every daunting task and weighted day
encountering you with...
No angel blood taints the ground around me
no ripped wings, no broken halos…
no heaven sent tears beyond that slow
Hyperbole escapes me…..
There are only signs and symbols
little flecks of meaning we shine
In our imaginary moonshineries
We find the...
Splayed on a sky bed,
She drools for death
slow moon glistening along horizon lips...
to juice Her ripe apple
against my roaring tree;
a proud horn inside Her,
and sacrifice a
for a warm, sobbing myth.
I wish I could write myself away
every attempt at poetry, every word and rhyme
every rational effort to express what it is to exist;
are these not attempts at erasure?
If I can just get this life out of me
purge myself of all this… this…
This damp and dire living;
If I could only...
I have secrets;
clear liquid ones,
flowery verdant ones,
cold navy steel ones,
little round cream ones,
I keep in quiet places
where no one goes.
When the world has wound
its weary sun-stained ribbons
about the last vestiges
of a pedophile’s
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