choke down pomegranate seeds
we all have needs
you had to eat
and hades put his hand over
your virgin mouth
and in the morning
demeter tried to follow
your footsteps in
the trail you left
through the dewey grass
she sits alone at her hearth
and sings to the bonnet
she had knit you
this will do
this ill will
not swallow you
The light coats the rolling hills.
Leaving dense shades in their valleys.
As the soft wind brushes the jade grass
and leaves its print in the land.
The sights, the smells, the senses,
You can almost feel them all.
The warm summer air on your cheeks.
The sweet scent of roses.
But after the first frost
only the memories remain.
Sleeping only to return
Laying dormant in the cold
But the warmth stays in your heart
You yearn for it, you dream of it to return.
But nobody should dream of soft summer winds
While the frost still coats the vales and hills.
Komarovsky knows better than Pasha
What Lara wants
There is no need
To hide the truth
It doesn’t tremble
Like an ashy virgin
In the dark.
But Pasha only loves the lie
- The honeyed Whelk
He only loves the illusion
That the rippled pictures provide.
And you Persephone
You’ve read this book
Know this script
But still you look for the daffodil
You’re a prospector - my love
You’ll spend your life
Corianding for nuggets
Amongst the dross
And it will seem
When something gleams
That you have won
But it is only the illusion
That the rippled waters provide.
If I come to terms then my world will collapse.
You said time's made of pockets, so when in doubt just dance.
Once I was guiding light that he wouldn't go without,
Now a mass of ash, dry in starving mouths.
Remember how I melted into the carpet that moved; the ebb and flow?
Remember the day we stayed up through a hurricane, remember virgin snow?
Memory is a sacrifice buried at our dirty feet,
Sacraments that leave our minds incomplete.
You were my purgatory, your burning makes me clean,
I sat in Persephone's throne, it's fit for a queen.
Stolen maiden turned whore, six seeds seal fate.
I'm consort on your royal tour, but you need to abdicate.
Your morganatic lover under covers.
Sharpened claws hide in kitten's paws,
Concern hovers, while I discover
Who I am, will be, and was.
Like a chrysalis hatched a week too early,
Like plastic, pulled from Laura Palmer's head,
Like latex, pulled over another's,
Like sheets, ripped out from under,
There is always a song
that fits—a blanket,
it hands us—
to disappear beneath.
But also, a
a warm breath, rising up
into a cloud—For us.
We make time to stare.
honeycomb pores until
storybooks fall in and we’re
so full of everything that we stiffen
and burst with it all.
Often though, glassy goosebumps,
they raise—the ridges pull away,
stretching, until we peel and shed
crinkly skins and shells—
More naked than before,
and scared—enticed to
the flowers left by
Longing again for the turn of spring,
to take me from this world of sin.
No longer will men speak my name,
for before me death will show my fame.
Now they cry for an innocent maiden,
who never returned from the first time she was taken.
The man who kills at touch,
keeps me tightley within his evil clutch.
Cry not for me people above,
just keep me alive with the pouring of blood.
For with his love he kills springs rebirth,
salting the now dead and barren earth.
imprisoned with his revolting seed,
i wish that in his presence my eyes could bleed.
for tears do not turn him from his desire,
to love me deeper in hells fire.
Hundreds of "I love you"s later
I still feel
Just as alone
As day one.
The world twists beneath my feet
And to hell again,
Oh how I miss the sun.
The sky breaks and sun graces my skin
And to earth again,
Oh how the sun burns.
I have found,
Thats this world is no longer for me,
But I love the world too much
To let go.
Fill this taciturn vessel
with lugubrious melodies,
there are no other sounds
but melancholic petals
shed from springtime's
dismal cheeks... pink
with promise, weighed
by shadows dark and deep:
you are the only light
whose brilliance breaks
Hades' brutal shackles.