I took a trip
I took a look
That tree could read me
Like a book
And open me
Like a library
Cipher in the
Sanctuary
Deeper
Still deeper
Inside the place
Where secret
Knowledge hides
The twin snakes ladder
Necklace chain
Make life by any
Other name
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 7:11 AM UTC
sometimes,
princes - s
wait - i
at the - h
top of - t
their tower. - e
waiting for - k
a rapunzel - i
to toss their - l
long hair up - t
tied at the end - s
with a grappling - u
hook and climb it - j
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 10:24 PM UTC
VI. I, Ophelia
______________________________________________________________
{The Drowning}
It was her--
Flower Child.
Weeping Woman.
Crazed Ophelia--
who taught me that the
drowning is in the letting go
and not in the doing.
Ophelia did not flee to the riverside
with the intention of
drowning herself, no--
it was merely a promise of bouquets--
daisies, violet, rosemary, rue--
of wild, velveteen petals nestled softly
against tear-stained cheekbones;
pine needles--
ticklish--
beneath raw feet
(do you recall how The Little Mermaid
danced upon knives
in the name of true love?);
and the train of her nightgown
a focal point for dewy leaves
and frayed bird feathers.
For it was flying she thought of
as she climbed the scarred willow
and cradled herself atop its highest bough,
severed blossoms in hand,
legs dangling precariously over
blustering currents.
But
when the bough
b r o k e ,
the cradle did f
a
l
l,
and down came
mad girl
cradle and all.
But you must understand--
the dismemberment of the
willow's flailing limbs
was not her doing;
when the rapids dragged her down
to the belly of the murky river bed,
she merely gave no struggle
as death lapped at her ribs--
she merely submitted,
allowed the snivelling maw of the river
to swallow her whole.
Now,
I think it suiting
that I ponder the demise of the
Flower Child
(wilted in her ruin);
Weeping Woman
(tears reunited
with the eye of
the water lily);
Crazed Ophelia
(forgotten)
and all she has taught me
of drowning
as I let myself
fall asleep in the bathtub
at three o clock in the morning,
all the while a little drunk
and so very sad.
(You'd might have even thought
I wanted to drown myself. )
___________________________________________________________
{The Resurrection}
Doused in the pallid wash
of blue stage light,
and the clamour
of imaginary tides
growling in my ears,
I metamorphosize into
Hamlet's Ophelia
and all the other Ophelias
who came before me--
mad.
broken.
lost.
women.
Women who were never
capable of quieting
the sea trembling
in their veins;
the barbaric deluge festering
within their souls;
the siren songs
musing to the cavernous twists
of their hearts,
piercing through artery
with stalagmite precision.
These women succumbed,
not to the water,
but to the burden of their own
desire.
love.
heartbreak.
None of them survived.
Except for me,
of course.
And, I must admit,
it took my
writing this poem
to finally understand
why that is--
why--
how--
I have managed
to stay alive,
despite dreaming of that
same siren song
that lured my foremothers
to their destructions.
See,
alone,
Ophelia could not weather
the tempest seething over her.
But I different--
I am not alone.
Because I carry with me the spirits
of all the Ophelias
who came before me,
the fragments of their beings
melding together to create
a brilliant gossamer of hope.
And that is why,
together,
we can breathe underwater.
______________________________________________________________
{Blackout}
Ophelia Bows,
her performance immortalized
through the remembrance
of a standing ovation.
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 10:37 PM UTC
every night i softly cry
eat an apple, hope to die
you've left me here, so red and flushed
im waiting for you, but i feel rushed
the bleeding heart slips from my grasp
i run to catch it in a dash
but only you can break its fall
and as it hits, I slowly crawl
to you.
adieu.
goodbye,
sweet lie.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 11:10 PM UTC
The noon's greygolden meshes make
All night a veil,
The shorelamps in the sleeping lake
Laburnum tendrils trail.
The sly reeds whisper to the night
A name-- her name-
And all my soul is a delight,
A swoon of shame.
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 11:12 PM UTC
the dark pool
of nothingness
consumes me, swallows me,
my body burns me, destroys me,
my very essence,
devours me, destroys me,
bit by bit.
will others see me,
as i give my last burst of life
i am only a speck of dust
amid my million kin
i will soon be
obliterated into oblivion
into nothing but dust
and specks of rock
so folks,
when you wish upon a star
remember that
stars die too,
and so will you
but when you do,
what would you say
in that
one
last
breath?
Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 10:24 AM UTC
i do not like the feeling of being slowly melted under the toxic rays of the sun
i do not like the humid heat sticking to me like a coat of slugs
climbing all over my body
i do not like the bees that drone around the beehive that they
somehow built outside of my apartment balcony, invading my space with the incessant buzz, buzz, buzz
i do not like the summer
and stop trying to convince me otherwise
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."
We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.
I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.
I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.
Almost.
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 7:43 AM UTC
You Tangled Her In Your Lies
Vines With Thorns;
Thorns That Could Only Come From The Darkest Rose,
Drawing Crimson Blood Leaking Hatred.
Hatred For All The Horrible Things You Do.
Hatred For The Way You Made Her Love You.
Hatred For Herself,
Because She Knows She Will Never Not Love You.
Mar 11, 2018
Mar 11, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC