*Dogs are barking
and the wind is howling
and dragging it’s legs through autumn leaves
at the door
the night silences all sleep
and white walls
catch my dreams
and erase them
almost immediately
unstable, tossed, and turning
there is no peace to be disturbed
or broken
the night is chaos
and i know nothing else
besides it’s name
and hollow meanings
listless, useless connotations
faint stars flicker
and lie about the promises of morning
fortune rises in the west
and soon the sun will be returning
to dry it all up again…*
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 10:01 PM UTC
for some reason,
i’m infatuated with libraries.
so many thoughts, so many voices, so many dreams.
all collecting dust
in one
quiet
place.
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 10:23 PM UTC
denser.
darker.
deeper.
i crept into
the skeleton forest
no way out
no bread crumb trail
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 10:20 PM UTC
resistance
came in many forms
back then.
clouds. storms. fogs.
tides. glaciers.
lakes.
all tried.
all failed.
to keep me
away…
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 9:56 PM UTC
no rest
for the wicked
or for
me,
no my
dreams keep me
tired,
no fire
has burnt my
bed yet,
no i’m
watching
laundry line
silhouettes
from:
the shadow box
of my head,
no this
isn’t pain
as much
as its
disorienting,
no i
need medicine
something to
keep me
awake
because
i forgot
to blink,
no it
makes no difference
whether my eyes
are closed or
open,
no dust
left
suspended in light
over the ocean
trenched
darkness.
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 9:53 PM UTC
tiny. little. indivisible.
—moments.
frame real. for the first time.
—suspended.
I fed. five thousand.
—of them.
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 9:50 PM UTC
we escaped
the ravenous crowds of the beach
the secrets seagulls screech
that discussed the implausibility
of you leaving with me
you walked
with the sound of the coast
the deep ancient sea
clearing its throat
to call you home
furthering the distance
from me
to you.
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 9:49 PM UTC
Daily,
Anna Tole
rides by me.
sitting up straight;
pedaling awkwardly.
she looks down:
maybe at the dirt
or a stone,
but it’s most probably
something i cant see
with glass eyes
alone.
she sees things…
like a seed taking root
or a nest where foxes
chew rocks
in constant costly pursuit
of that elusive sharper tooth
clouded. constant. clarity.
she looks closer
to see grains of sand
much darker
than her pre-disposed
pre-dawn
darkness
the kind
that attaches itself
tangled up behind her
she might as well be
tying soda cans
to tap out a
telegraph message
s.o.s…s.o.s…s.o.s…
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 9:48 PM UTC
Mostly i hate to shiver, but
as of late
my mind floats
like a glacier
on a tundra. it’s almost as if
i long to be frozen, of finally
crystallizing.
spread thinly across a moment. For
what is winter but
a season of correction and
what else does snow
hide, but warm seeds
not yet equipped or
ready:
to make an assault;
to reach for the;
unfolding firmament.
and how else:
will white blankets behave?
then to collect and save
every prism of light”
crawling toward it,
like the pilgrimage of a wave~
no longer discriminating].
against boundaries:
past, present, and future
and (all at once).
&lately;, i cannot
quench my thirst
for the ice 0f eternity
to melt f1rst
our corporeal frigid for/\ /\s
into puddles of everlasting
currents.|||\/\/\/^\\/\\/^\\\||||\/\/\/^\\/\\/^
Jan 15, 2011
Jan 15, 2011 at 9:46 PM UTC
it was on all the news channels,
your shipwreck.
for miles,
and from distant lands,
whose soil
you never even met,
they traveled for you.
all around us
the promised ringing—
circle of:
banshee sharks,
phantom whales,
and reaching shadow tentacles.
glimmer—
you are sunken treasure.
but either from
the weight of your necklace,
or the summoning,
voodoo grasps of
gravity,
we were:
entranced in depth
and the fleeing
whiteness of your dress,
both them,
and me,
floating…
knowing full well,
where you go,
and that we could not venture there,
as our body-suits
could only take so much
pressure.
this, my dear, is madness:
the scent of your blood
drifting
in open water.
Oct 20, 2010
Oct 20, 2010 at 11:15 PM UTC