ecarsyn - Hello Poetry

Who cleans the killed from the road? Who takes the broken and buries them? Who stops the traffic? They’re not always around. The skunk is nothing more than a dark spot Along the intersection before the interstate. I watched it wither away over three months Each day becoming less recognizable Each day sinking lower into the ground I think the tuff of its tail snapped off And rolled down the slope, into more traffic. Where were they? Why was this one not moved? When I am run over will you scrape me from asphalt Or leave me to bake in the summer sun Until I am as nothing as now, true nothing, Flattened and forgotten and forsaken?

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Jul 29, 2021

Jul 29, 2021 at 8:11 AM UTC

7.6.21

Who cleans the killed from the road? Who takes the broken and buries them? Who stops the traffic? They’re not always around. The skunk is nothing more than a dark spot Along the intersection before the interstate. I watched it wither away over three months Each day becoming less recognizable Each day sinking lower into the ground I think the tuff of its tail snapped off And rolled down the slope, into more traffic. Where were they? Why was this one not moved? When I am run over will you scrape me from asphalt Or leave me to bake in the summer sun Until I am as nothing as now, true nothing, Flattened and forgotten and forsaken?

15

Love doubled is desire desire doubled is madness here i am with my chest aflame ears full of saltwater, eyes only see one thing upon rest blue eyes, freezer burn, black crystals chipping away at my nails i want nothing more than your touch but the river is between us and we are both chained by pain invisible and sharp and lonely i am ready, i desire, that which does not want me, a feeling strange and ill-fitting

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Jul 28, 2021

Jul 28, 2021 at 10:07 PM UTC

7.5.21

Love doubled is desire desire doubled is madness here i am with my chest aflame ears full of saltwater, eyes only see one thing upon rest blue eyes, freezer burn, black crystals chipping away at my nails i want nothing more than your touch but the river is between us and we are both chained by pain invisible and sharp and lonely i am ready, i desire, that which does not want me, a feeling strange and ill-fitting

14

The fastest way from point a to b is a straight line but the blue line on the gps is never straight -- i got lost in the steel city once with a dead phone and no gps to get me home i had to do it the old fashion way reading and listening until it started to look familiar until it didn’t feel so lonely i got lost in the steel city once not a single soul around save for the sound of cars and sirens and trains i thought leaving the city was bringing me closer to b i thought leaving would be less lonely but the thing about loneliness is that it never goes away it just changes shapes.

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Jul 28, 2021

Jul 28, 2021 at 10:00 PM UTC

7.23.21

The fastest way from point a to b is a straight line but the blue line on the gps is never straight -- i got lost in the steel city once with a dead phone and no gps to get me home i had to do it the old fashion way reading and listening until it started to look familiar until it didn’t feel so lonely i got lost in the steel city once not a single soul around save for the sound of cars and sirens and trains i thought leaving the city was bringing me closer to b i thought leaving would be less lonely but the thing about loneliness is that it never goes away it just changes shapes.

15

Bumblebees swarm under The orange rind, bedside Lamp flits, claws clench A steering wheel, speeding. Almost there, almost home, You’re so close to finally Understanding, almost.

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Feb 19, 2019

Feb 19, 2019 at 12:53 PM UTC

Decomposing

Bumblebees swarm under The orange rind, bedside Lamp flits, claws clench A steering wheel, speeding. Almost there, almost home, You’re so close to finally Understanding, almost.

7

Burning crown of golden glory, crusade Cascade down my corpse like water, toppling Wobbling pillar legs, eroding away Cliché shoulder chips. Scorch scarf this thin skin Therein a conversion of faith. Baptized Eyes, lashless from rapid oxidation, Imagination draught, greyscale landscapes, Escape the reaction zone, relapse in Collapsed dead space. Swallow the prophet whole. Cajole the gut advice, heed it to heart. Hot bleached skin, remnant of fever, frail ash Dashed in the heavy summer breeze, tumble Crumble under fingers, over myself. Sulfur-lined lips ignite epiphanies, Key-locked doors welded shut now ashy piles. Smile of a statue spilt on veneer Near the window. Husked corpse of cheap incense, Scents of lavender, meekly melt away. Ashtray of a grave, taste the bitter burn Return again to bury my mortal. Laurel on the pyre, you sing the hymn, Swim within thin chapters of a dead flame, Claim the blame of scorch scars and disappear. Hear the fire eat. Smell its heat. Consume Perfume of a personal breed, discard Charred temple walls. This body, like incense, Thence an ashen husk, molder from my touch.

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Oct 29, 2018

Oct 29, 2018 at 6:20 PM UTC

Redolent of a Flame

Burning crown of golden glory, crusade Cascade down my corpse like water, toppling Wobbling pillar legs, eroding away Cliché shoulder chips. Scorch scarf this thin skin Therein a conversion of faith. Baptized Eyes, lashless from rapid oxidation, Imagination draught, greyscale landscapes, Escape the reaction zone, relapse in Collapsed dead space. Swallow the prophet whole. Cajole the gut advice, heed it to heart. Hot bleached skin, remnant of fever, frail ash Dashed in the heavy summer breeze, tumble Crumble under fingers, over myself. Sulfur-lined lips ignite epiphanies, Key-locked doors welded shut now ashy piles. Smile of a statue spilt on veneer Near the window. Husked corpse of cheap incense, Scents of lavender, meekly melt away. Ashtray of a grave, taste the bitter burn Return again to bury my mortal. Laurel on the pyre, you sing the hymn, Swim within thin chapters of a dead flame, Claim the blame of scorch scars and disappear. Hear the fire eat. Smell its heat. Consume Perfume of a personal breed, discard Charred temple walls. This body, like incense, Thence an ashen husk, molder from my touch.

27

I haven’t moved since the first time you kissed me. Your lips drip laughter onto my chapstick, filling the space between my teeth, moving over my esophagus, slowly — burning beneath my ribs. This sweet warm wax, honey in my veins, bubbling, hardening in my lungs — squeezing the slightest sound of surprise, surrender, from my diaphragm and I give myself, relaxing in your arms, to this feeling in my molten stomach. My skin stiffens, my eyes glaze, my lips frozen somewhere between a smile and a pucker. Stuck in this split second, gazing at you, encased in amber.

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Mar 1, 2018

Mar 1, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC

Amber

I haven’t moved since the first time you kissed me. Your lips drip laughter onto my chapstick, filling the space between my teeth, moving over my esophagus, slowly — burning beneath my ribs. This sweet warm wax, honey in my veins, bubbling, hardening in my lungs — squeezing the slightest sound of surprise, surrender, from my diaphragm and I give myself, relaxing in your arms, to this feeling in my molten stomach. My skin stiffens, my eyes glaze, my lips frozen somewhere between a smile and a pucker. Stuck in this split second, gazing at you, encased in amber.

15

Blue as sapphire groaning, shaking, rumbling like thunder burning my thigh tops through the blanket. The screen is dull, flickering, buffering — force shut down the sound of Windows reopening, singing — log in again, eight taps on the sticky keyboard, reopen the YouTube tab begin another vine compilation. The screen is dull, flickering, buffering — force shut down the sound of Windows reopening, singing — log in again, sadistic taps on the keyboard, open Dragon Age, watch the title screen flicker, buffer, freeze — force shut down the sound of Windows, loud, lodging in my head — log in again, first four furious, the following: apologetic, reopen Dragon Age, slay an ogre, freeze, sword raised prepared for the final blow — force shut down Windows singing, its melody, four beats long, like a taunt or a tease — log in, frantic eight taps, enter, open Dragon Age. I didn’t get the chance to save.

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Mar 1, 2018

Mar 1, 2018 at 7:30 PM UTC

Laptop circa 2012

Blue as sapphire groaning, shaking, rumbling like thunder burning my thigh tops through the blanket. The screen is dull, flickering, buffering — force shut down the sound of Windows reopening, singing — log in again, eight taps on the sticky keyboard, reopen the YouTube tab begin another vine compilation. The screen is dull, flickering, buffering — force shut down the sound of Windows reopening, singing — log in again, sadistic taps on the keyboard, open Dragon Age, watch the title screen flicker, buffer, freeze — force shut down the sound of Windows, loud, lodging in my head — log in again, first four furious, the following: apologetic, reopen Dragon Age, slay an ogre, freeze, sword raised prepared for the final blow — force shut down Windows singing, its melody, four beats long, like a taunt or a tease — log in, frantic eight taps, enter, open Dragon Age. I didn’t get the chance to save.

40

Early morning, Jupiter and Venus meet face to face, frozen, a second before collision. The sky glows a burnt orange, an echo of the collision that could have been. Closer than the band of my ring, lustrous like the diamond on it, still, they long to close the 365 million miles. Jupiter and Venus lay next to each other on a Queen. Jupiter slumbers, rumbles quietly next to Venus while she counts the fluttering eyelashes. Early morning, Venus and Jupiter are 17 arc minutes away, seems like an arm’s reach, but he is so far. Lost in a dream, frantically fastened to her waist, she counts his heartbeats. Floating beneath sown lights, between the sounds of the sleeping city and the hum of the heater. She gazes upwards, finding faux constellations. Venus wakes Jupiter pressing her lips to the soft skin of his face, dawn light pours red through the blinds as Jupiter and Venus collide, for what feels like the first time all over again.

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Feb 27, 2018

Feb 27, 2018 at 8:23 PM UTC

We have separation

Early morning, Jupiter and Venus meet face to face, frozen, a second before collision. The sky glows a burnt orange, an echo of the collision that could have been. Closer than the band of my ring, lustrous like the diamond on it, still, they long to close the 365 million miles. Jupiter and Venus lay next to each other on a Queen. Jupiter slumbers, rumbles quietly next to Venus while she counts the fluttering eyelashes. Early morning, Venus and Jupiter are 17 arc minutes away, seems like an arm’s reach, but he is so far. Lost in a dream, frantically fastened to her waist, she counts his heartbeats. Floating beneath sown lights, between the sounds of the sleeping city and the hum of the heater. She gazes upwards, finding faux constellations. Venus wakes Jupiter pressing her lips to the soft skin of his face, dawn light pours red through the blinds as Jupiter and Venus collide, for what feels like the first time all over again.

43

It is heroic to attempt to stop time To pick a moment from a tree Like a ripe red apple, sweet and shiny. It is heroic to bite into a moment To break the seconds with soft yellowing teeth Taste the bitter, brown, grainy bruises. It is heroic to keep eating away the seconds To consume the glances, grazes, gazes And transform it into something nourishing.

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Feb 27, 2018

Feb 27, 2018 at 7:45 PM UTC

Orchard

It is heroic to attempt to stop time To pick a moment from a tree Like a ripe red apple, sweet and shiny. It is heroic to bite into a moment To break the seconds with soft yellowing teeth Taste the bitter, brown, grainy bruises. It is heroic to keep eating away the seconds To consume the glances, grazes, gazes And transform it into something nourishing.

9

She is perched on the pier a lonely mourning dove rather than a stalking hawk. Legs pouring over the red cedar // toes playfully kissing the mist of lulling lake waves against the dock. She waits over the fish staring at the drowning worm her father pierced with the rusted hook. Three fish // silver like new quarters coming towards her // towards this earth thing in water. Every time they begin to kiss // nibble // the worm // she tugs the line and the creatures scatter. She intends to catch one each time // she flicks her wrist too soon each time and each time she can’t catch a fish // she doesn’t seem to mind.

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Feb 13, 2017

Feb 13, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC

Maine, 2007

She is perched on the pier a lonely mourning dove rather than a stalking hawk. Legs pouring over the red cedar // toes playfully kissing the mist of lulling lake waves against the dock. She waits over the fish staring at the drowning worm her father pierced with the rusted hook. Three fish // silver like new quarters coming towards her // towards this earth thing in water. Every time they begin to kiss // nibble // the worm // she tugs the line and the creatures scatter. She intends to catch one each time // she flicks her wrist too soon each time and each time she can’t catch a fish // she doesn’t seem to mind.

19