miles-cottingham - Hello Poetry

Feed to me a current so that I may have an adversary  It’ll help carry the bones home when our wars are done  Remembering how we’d dislodged our lives  Torn them clean from the earth  Stolen to ***** cairns too tall to climb  Even for nimble us  Allow me then to stack my bricks up against yours  Measure if you must  They can topple continuously   Mine were bound to from birth  Build with them a wall against which I can press  In my very own war  Crumble the pieces into a fine powder  To be blown out of hand and spun  into a wind-turned eye  Call it salt and litter our croplands with it  It is standard procedure  That nothing lives long enough to learn how to mock itself  Watch it slip from your hands   Watch the line slip from mine  No chance of less slack on my own volition   Better a contained current in some watery recess Than a fought one upended in thundering torrents Better to quell the urge to hurl oneself toward it   Than to hold taut a line tied to a drowning stone

0

Mar 9, 2017

Mar 9, 2017 at 12:59 AM UTC

Call It Salt

Feed to me a current so that I may have an adversary  It’ll help carry the bones home when our wars are done  Remembering how we’d dislodged our lives  Torn them clean from the earth  Stolen to ***** cairns too tall to climb  Even for nimble us  Allow me then to stack my bricks up against yours  Measure if you must  They can topple continuously   Mine were bound to from birth  Build with them a wall against which I can press  In my very own war  Crumble the pieces into a fine powder  To be blown out of hand and spun  into a wind-turned eye  Call it salt and litter our croplands with it  It is standard procedure  That nothing lives long enough to learn how to mock itself  Watch it slip from your hands   Watch the line slip from mine  No chance of less slack on my own volition   Better a contained current in some watery recess Than a fought one upended in thundering torrents Better to quell the urge to hurl oneself toward it   Than to hold taut a line tied to a drowning stone

24

And the ships were fogbound for three days Their hulls split smiling wide by the spray of the channel We're hovering with them in the dimness of a drunk sun crawling under A dusk devoid of color Welcome rainclouds follow countless bouts of bleakness Slate-gray miasma of refinery exhaust swirls Mingling skyward with the overcast scene and all it's gulls and cranes Cawing in the dampness toward their roosts under jetties Those frayed hurricane tarps on dilapidated rooftops Laid creased and faded by morose Texas suns Epitaphs blotting dismal landscapes of copper and olive And smashed concrete begging to be reclaimed by nature As all of it is when the seasons heave Our interim footnotes disguised by the power of purpose The notion that one day our role will be to make life better for each other (Oh, how we loathe being found out) Instead of grimacing, sage-like, naked and angelic in our blindness by the mirror While each shred of truth oscillates into blue ruin and we shake, shake, shake Mesmerized by houses where we once lived and stories we must have led in them In varied and skewed alternate realities, and in dreams we once had Some of which paint homage to our own grim summers here Some in which where my roads leading home were less obfuscated Instead being laid out like the chemtrail creases drawn solemn on our brows (We won't notice them until our thirties) This far south, everything is the ageless vacuum we've known since conception Thusly we're bound to the irony of it all by dull tradition and the will to break it Among all other shams bred real by the ambitions of confused white men Their warring remains reigning evident within my crooked heart Under whichever corner of earthen floor it may be buried Your guess is as good as anyone's

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Dec 27, 2016

Dec 27, 2016 at 3:20 PM UTC

First World Artifacts

And the ships were fogbound for three days Their hulls split smiling wide by the spray of the channel We're hovering with them in the dimness of a drunk sun crawling under A dusk devoid of color Welcome rainclouds follow countless bouts of bleakness Slate-gray miasma of refinery exhaust swirls Mingling skyward with the overcast scene and all it's gulls and cranes Cawing in the dampness toward their roosts under jetties Those frayed hurricane tarps on dilapidated rooftops Laid creased and faded by morose Texas suns Epitaphs blotting dismal landscapes of copper and olive And smashed concrete begging to be reclaimed by nature As all of it is when the seasons heave Our interim footnotes disguised by the power of purpose The notion that one day our role will be to make life better for each other (Oh, how we loathe being found out) Instead of grimacing, sage-like, naked and angelic in our blindness by the mirror While each shred of truth oscillates into blue ruin and we shake, shake, shake Mesmerized by houses where we once lived and stories we must have led in them In varied and skewed alternate realities, and in dreams we once had Some of which paint homage to our own grim summers here Some in which where my roads leading home were less obfuscated Instead being laid out like the chemtrail creases drawn solemn on our brows (We won't notice them until our thirties) This far south, everything is the ageless vacuum we've known since conception Thusly we're bound to the irony of it all by dull tradition and the will to break it Among all other shams bred real by the ambitions of confused white men Their warring remains reigning evident within my crooked heart Under whichever corner of earthen floor it may be buried Your guess is as good as anyone's

30

One eye lined a rippling void in our favor Two lights aimed to dither coherence astray A spark may be one A pyre, another Two methods by which we may aptly narrate These volumes which artifice rendered impassive Some lifetimes ago As if carved out of stone Upon faces that masons could not replicate We taxed ourselves harsh by indulging old spirits But graver the crime was to give them a name The deepest transgression of all, incorporeal Our memories in the end gave us away Yes, nostalgia seeps in through the gaps in our logic To shepherd the currents beneath those blue waves As if tides could be altered by such visitation And oceans stood frozen with forces concealed by Some gravities borne of celestial weight Reluctant to wake and depart Colorado My surrogate mother Our canvas to paint Expressions whipped dry by the skirt of her leather And eardrums wrung pierced by the crags and the scree If I leave now this portal may vanish forever I could leave my sins here in the chill of the Springs Release them down mineshaft chutes long since abandoned In futile attempts to abscond the unclean And rise to leave haunts of offenses unstated To come crawling back from the dead Southbound with me Hold out, I was told With arms to receive You'll make sure to keep your hands steady for me I'm soaked to the core with my soul and voice breaking With eyes for your heart and its formless cascade And my pail with dozens of holes to redeem An abundance of squalls brewed behind both those seams The light crosses your path And you won't look away When I question by which laws such mirrors are made And it all seems so cruel that we're drawn here to suffer To be teased and transfixed by what glimmers remain I can drum up what strengths I have left to ignite you I'll shout even louder when you forget your name I'll relearn every way that I've known how to love you But we're taught to process what we cannot maintain Yes, our hearts are irreparably torn in this way

0

Sep 23, 2016

Sep 23, 2016 at 8:29 PM UTC

Arrivals/Departures

One eye lined a rippling void in our favor Two lights aimed to dither coherence astray A spark may be one A pyre, another Two methods by which we may aptly narrate These volumes which artifice rendered impassive Some lifetimes ago As if carved out of stone Upon faces that masons could not replicate We taxed ourselves harsh by indulging old spirits But graver the crime was to give them a name The deepest transgression of all, incorporeal Our memories in the end gave us away Yes, nostalgia seeps in through the gaps in our logic To shepherd the currents beneath those blue waves As if tides could be altered by such visitation And oceans stood frozen with forces concealed by Some gravities borne of celestial weight Reluctant to wake and depart Colorado My surrogate mother Our canvas to paint Expressions whipped dry by the skirt of her leather And eardrums wrung pierced by the crags and the scree If I leave now this portal may vanish forever I could leave my sins here in the chill of the Springs Release them down mineshaft chutes long since abandoned In futile attempts to abscond the unclean And rise to leave haunts of offenses unstated To come crawling back from the dead Southbound with me Hold out, I was told With arms to receive You'll make sure to keep your hands steady for me I'm soaked to the core with my soul and voice breaking With eyes for your heart and its formless cascade And my pail with dozens of holes to redeem An abundance of squalls brewed behind both those seams The light crosses your path And you won't look away When I question by which laws such mirrors are made And it all seems so cruel that we're drawn here to suffer To be teased and transfixed by what glimmers remain I can drum up what strengths I have left to ignite you I'll shout even louder when you forget your name I'll relearn every way that I've known how to love you But we're taught to process what we cannot maintain Yes, our hearts are irreparably torn in this way

47

A heart is a war, a heart is a shutter One stream of light is allowed to escape Far into your chambers a ceiling is painted Mosaic by name, but truer to form: An electrical storm we ourselves engineered to Perpetuate evils eluded before In the grimness of what lies behind the mind's door When we met as two fangs in the jaw of a serpent And you were the flares arcing up towards the sky And I was the lens overawed by your light Yes, I was what bent you with colors diffracted Now I am that glass which your mildew begrimes Color me flyblown, or color me blind Marred are the edges around this old glass The ink inundates and the horn is all hollow Latched is our gate when the causeways collapse Besieged now in my ocean of ink Scanning the night sky for sign of a flare No whisper, no shutter, no lingering there

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Aug 30, 2016

Aug 30, 2016 at 8:06 PM UTC

Color Me Flyblown

A heart is a war, a heart is a shutter One stream of light is allowed to escape Far into your chambers a ceiling is painted Mosaic by name, but truer to form: An electrical storm we ourselves engineered to Perpetuate evils eluded before In the grimness of what lies behind the mind's door When we met as two fangs in the jaw of a serpent And you were the flares arcing up towards the sky And I was the lens overawed by your light Yes, I was what bent you with colors diffracted Now I am that glass which your mildew begrimes Color me flyblown, or color me blind Marred are the edges around this old glass The ink inundates and the horn is all hollow Latched is our gate when the causeways collapse Besieged now in my ocean of ink Scanning the night sky for sign of a flare No whisper, no shutter, no lingering there

19

I’ll see you all in heaven soon We’ll all be wearing blue Underneath, as naked as ever The way we always intended I’m thinking, this is where we part ways Off to practice being ourselves Astral planes of each our own Gathering gemstone truths in silence Ninety-nine percent Similar brain chemistry as before But where is the cusp Where we stop recognizing each other When overwhelming time and knowing in knowing Becomes a gap too vast to trek We’ll meet there, anyway In spite of all the space between To gawk at each other’s beards and wrinkles Only when we’re lost like so Will we have arrived in heaven But it should be the same as before If not better, always better Nothing lateral or linear But outward, upward, onward Forward thinking Ghastly traps that rope us in It’s better this way, it has to be Screams raving logic I’m thinking, this is when we shake our heads This is when we bolt and run Into each other again with only Honest intentions We’re each other’s salvation Backlit by bonfires We’re all someone’s Messiah On days where clocks of ours lay stricken Suspended between parallels, again I’ll see you all in heaven there Without the faintest murmur Of ill-intended anything

0

Aug 24, 2016

Aug 24, 2016 at 3:04 AM UTC

We'll Be Wearing Blue

I’ll see you all in heaven soon We’ll all be wearing blue Underneath, as naked as ever The way we always intended I’m thinking, this is where we part ways Off to practice being ourselves Astral planes of each our own Gathering gemstone truths in silence Ninety-nine percent Similar brain chemistry as before But where is the cusp Where we stop recognizing each other When overwhelming time and knowing in knowing Becomes a gap too vast to trek We’ll meet there, anyway In spite of all the space between To gawk at each other’s beards and wrinkles Only when we’re lost like so Will we have arrived in heaven But it should be the same as before If not better, always better Nothing lateral or linear But outward, upward, onward Forward thinking Ghastly traps that rope us in It’s better this way, it has to be Screams raving logic I’m thinking, this is when we shake our heads This is when we bolt and run Into each other again with only Honest intentions We’re each other’s salvation Backlit by bonfires We’re all someone’s Messiah On days where clocks of ours lay stricken Suspended between parallels, again I’ll see you all in heaven there Without the faintest murmur Of ill-intended anything

41

Wild-eyed optimism “Younger-than thou” seizure throngs Celebrate the carving out of misunderstandings from history books Party’s done, now go away Small prices paid for playing host Space capsule offspring bent on defiling human fibre Who, whining loudly in unison To have it their own way The better way of course is theirs Never never worry It’ll make you grow too old

0

Aug 24, 2016

Aug 24, 2016 at 3:03 AM UTC

Fever Fringe

Wild-eyed optimism “Younger-than thou” seizure throngs Celebrate the carving out of misunderstandings from history books Party’s done, now go away Small prices paid for playing host Space capsule offspring bent on defiling human fibre Who, whining loudly in unison To have it their own way The better way of course is theirs Never never worry It’ll make you grow too old

13

Our shoes are still piled high in the corner As we ourselves are in bed Clumsy and cute but with collective resignation Our clothes in artlessly incriminating puddles Divided floorbound like playing cards The crude magic of arousal Tricks us into losing them, one by one With no respite and no mercy Until we're robbed blind enough To then borrow whatever remains

0

Aug 24, 2016

Aug 24, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC

Low Ceiling (excerpt)

Our shoes are still piled high in the corner As we ourselves are in bed Clumsy and cute but with collective resignation Our clothes in artlessly incriminating puddles Divided floorbound like playing cards The crude magic of arousal Tricks us into losing them, one by one With no respite and no mercy Until we're robbed blind enough To then borrow whatever remains

10

Exiting the void without  Sinking noiselessly into my third skin  The daylight behind, a trailing blur  What happens in the night makes less sense   First suit donned when in groggy waking light  Momentary protests at the dawn  Fumbles with our old mechanics   Still creaking from the evening’s slumber    Second when, in flash-bang charge  The workman’s curse sets cast its truths  En route to jobs and errands laden  so heavily without grit or grin Sea legs now acquired   Us, with our souls bound by order  So eager for the day to end  Hours lost and hours spent    And when the clocks call for quittin’   Sudden surge of tired smiles  Play light the facts that choke our freedoms  Setting out now to town to celebrate them with friends   None for me though, I’m a goner  What happens in the night makes less sense  A step towards home is both backwards and on  Leaned back to indulge a simpler sigh   I’m always leaning back on something  Crutches groan and boulders shudder  Captured moments deep in pockets   Whatever helps the day roll by

0

Aug 24, 2016

Aug 24, 2016 at 2:56 AM UTC

Three Skins of a Day

Exiting the void without  Sinking noiselessly into my third skin  The daylight behind, a trailing blur  What happens in the night makes less sense   First suit donned when in groggy waking light  Momentary protests at the dawn  Fumbles with our old mechanics   Still creaking from the evening’s slumber    Second when, in flash-bang charge  The workman’s curse sets cast its truths  En route to jobs and errands laden  so heavily without grit or grin Sea legs now acquired   Us, with our souls bound by order  So eager for the day to end  Hours lost and hours spent    And when the clocks call for quittin’   Sudden surge of tired smiles  Play light the facts that choke our freedoms  Setting out now to town to celebrate them with friends   None for me though, I’m a goner  What happens in the night makes less sense  A step towards home is both backwards and on  Leaned back to indulge a simpler sigh   I’m always leaning back on something  Crutches groan and boulders shudder  Captured moments deep in pockets   Whatever helps the day roll by

28

Bending in the breeze Little satellite martyrs Silently earthbound Hourglass suspended Whispering in the driveway Effervescent glow Business of birds Curious inclination Feathered dinosaurs White oak sentinels Unknowingly contribute Soon to all be bare Distant voices hum Neighbors are running errands Inaudible tasks Visceral lenses Golden season takes its course Contrived wordlessly Brown figure stalking intently towards a front door the UPS guy! Going indoors now But not because I want to My *** is asleep

0

Aug 24, 2016

Aug 24, 2016 at 2:51 AM UTC

October Sutra

Bending in the breeze Little satellite martyrs Silently earthbound Hourglass suspended Whispering in the driveway Effervescent glow Business of birds Curious inclination Feathered dinosaurs White oak sentinels Unknowingly contribute Soon to all be bare Distant voices hum Neighbors are running errands Inaudible tasks Visceral lenses Golden season takes its course Contrived wordlessly Brown figure stalking intently towards a front door the UPS guy! Going indoors now But not because I want to My *** is asleep

24

Caught on the softest azure cloud Ruminant noises drifting Buzzes of no consequence Call for attention nonetheless Arrived today on my doorstep The humming mental spaces found Lifted in airy somber cloud It won’t be cruel, I think this time No need for alarm To quake the fabric of this place These walls don’t move Fractured boundaries broken still Past visits from the same blue menace Fears bottled for future virility Nightmarish mysteries a veil Won’t be wary now To be kept warm by apparitions Events transpired underwater When I lived underwater and Not only ankle-deep It’s all better now To compare is to regret

0

Aug 24, 2016

Aug 24, 2016 at 2:50 AM UTC

Caught/Lifted

Caught on the softest azure cloud Ruminant noises drifting Buzzes of no consequence Call for attention nonetheless Arrived today on my doorstep The humming mental spaces found Lifted in airy somber cloud It won’t be cruel, I think this time No need for alarm To quake the fabric of this place These walls don’t move Fractured boundaries broken still Past visits from the same blue menace Fears bottled for future virility Nightmarish mysteries a veil Won’t be wary now To be kept warm by apparitions Events transpired underwater When I lived underwater and Not only ankle-deep It’s all better now To compare is to regret

23