lX0st - Hello Poetry

For all the men I’m ****** to love For all the deaths I’m doomed to die I lay in wait one crest above The wave on which fate idles by

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Aug 2, 2020

Aug 2, 2020 at 2:28 PM UTC

deep steep

For all the men I’m ****** to love For all the deaths I’m doomed to die I lay in wait one crest above The wave on which fate idles by

4

The buckets of life Are not filled By dainty hands

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Jun 19, 2020

Jun 19, 2020 at 12:20 AM UTC

All In

The buckets of life Are not filled By dainty hands

3

At which hill Will the wind crest Retreat to still, Recaptured breath How deep the sea Churns calling cold Raptured bells of Sunken churches toll If ever there were Predestined plateau Where promised peace Could erase the chain— But the wind again billows And once more, the rain

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Jun 14, 2020

Jun 14, 2020 at 9:51 AM UTC

Heaven or Atlantis

At which hill Will the wind crest Retreat to still, Recaptured breath How deep the sea Churns calling cold Raptured bells of Sunken churches toll If ever there were Predestined plateau Where promised peace Could erase the chain— But the wind again billows And once more, the rain

14

The days, All the days, Even those Inlaid with light, Shutter closed, As days do, With harsh fray Of night

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Jun 5, 2020

Jun 5, 2020 at 10:44 AM UTC

storm door swing

The days, All the days, Even those Inlaid with light, Shutter closed, As days do, With harsh fray Of night

8

I held tight to peace In my search of relief But she still Spilled discreet From a hole underneath

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Jun 3, 2020

Jun 3, 2020 at 7:16 PM UTC

Good morning, mourning dove

I held tight to peace In my search of relief But she still Spilled discreet From a hole underneath

5

This, the abyss No one warned me about Where imminent fevers Cannot be sweat out And sanity’s good side Turns one cheek too late In centripetal orbit Eluding escape

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May 31, 2020

May 31, 2020 at 10:54 AM UTC

To go gentle into that good night

This, the abyss No one warned me about Where imminent fevers Cannot be sweat out And sanity’s good side Turns one cheek too late In centripetal orbit Eluding escape

8

A distant dissonance Deepens in threat As my lips form new syllables And fingers, new frets It’s my grandmother’s voice— My namesake, in fact— That waltzes in echoes Through bright chambered chest Amassing new power Revving dense to unfurl Like peonies in bloom, or Cherry blossom pearls In descent. It’s true: That for which I’m meant— Good time, Good fortune, Good riddance— I will only know After roared repent Where I’ll expel Dusk’s detriment, And bellow soul’s Percussive song In long-overdue Performance

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May 24, 2020

May 24, 2020 at 10:06 AM UTC

Motown Baby

A distant dissonance Deepens in threat As my lips form new syllables And fingers, new frets It’s my grandmother’s voice— My namesake, in fact— That waltzes in echoes Through bright chambered chest Amassing new power Revving dense to unfurl Like peonies in bloom, or Cherry blossom pearls In descent. It’s true: That for which I’m meant— Good time, Good fortune, Good riddance— I will only know After roared repent Where I’ll expel Dusk’s detriment, And bellow soul’s Percussive song In long-overdue Performance

26

You should’ve spoken up When you talked down to me Instead you split my soul Spitting endless inbetweens And now the spool spins heavy, Wiry untouched runaway dreams Where the railcar always passes Just a moment out of reach

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May 21, 2020

May 21, 2020 at 12:13 AM UTC

While he whistles

You should’ve spoken up When you talked down to me Instead you split my soul Spitting endless inbetweens And now the spool spins heavy, Wiry untouched runaway dreams Where the railcar always passes Just a moment out of reach

8

When the day’s sweat Is swilled away by Weeping gold sage Spilling reasons To stay But instead Sweet stone remnants Crack and concave Filling impermeable Graves Gone cold Tell me, What is left to hold?

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May 12, 2020

May 12, 2020 at 11:24 PM UTC

with snakes for hair

When the day’s sweat Is swilled away by Weeping gold sage Spilling reasons To stay But instead Sweet stone remnants Crack and concave Filling impermeable Graves Gone cold Tell me, What is left to hold?

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