Son of man,
you have eaten
too many seeds
and your hands are
crimson. Honeybush
cannot soak the salt
from your skin.
When I saw you lying
on the concrete,
I did not know
I had broken
you; shredded
talons, velvet
roots.
May 3, 2011
May 3, 2011 at 6:27 PM UTC
When he speaks of moths,
I know what he is thinking,
how in death they turn
to dust.
With you I am a burning
tree. I give you cherries
in the hope that I will stain
your fingers.
Your eyes have felt acid
rain. Your transparent
gazes soak my branches,
but my roots remain
parched. They fear the folds
of your skin, the power
of your steps
towards me.
What do I consist of without
you? What do I consist
of, when without you I turn
to dust.
May 3, 2011
May 3, 2011 at 6:26 PM UTC
*you do not know
that the moon is yours*
if you have not yet realized
that the sun rises
with your breath and sets
with your calm,
let me wake you
before dew settles
on your tongue.
shadows paint your portrait
in the night. you watch the sky
with a furrowed brow.
if you do not know
that worlds rest in your hum,
let me go with you on your next
journey, and point to you
your powers.
when earth stains my knees
it tells me of your childhood.
let me take you to your past
in curling wood.
let me show you,
if you have not realized
I am the moon.
May 3, 2011
May 3, 2011 at 6:26 PM UTC
Your name was sung in the seagull's wings
that day.
But we did not hear it.
Instead she told me to stop looking
over the edge
for spots that could have held a body
in its last moments;
railings that might have felt the warm grip
of hesitation,
and the last release to flight.
We let ourselves forget, allowed
our eyes to jump with the dolphins below.
And we even forgot about your possibility
for a moment --
or perhaps just did not hear your last
glance to the sky.
Your silent jump convulsed our bodies,
but we did not feel it.
We did not feel
the gates clash with too much sorrow so that
some gold chipped off and lightly dusted
your convoluted shape
which winked up at us
and whispered of forgotten moments --
but they were carried away by the wind
and we did not hear it.
From our gated zenith above
your hole in the rocks,
all we could do was stare
and try and scream your name
but we did not know it.
Nov 20, 2010
Nov 20, 2010 at 10:47 AM UTC
in the single beam of light through the broken blind
dust drops and climbs on the breath of the sleeping,
resting on eyelashes covering rapidly dancing pupils
which see only you,
dripping in that early morning ray.
and still, in sleep,
the ache.
to love you,
oh,
to love you.
Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 8:20 AM UTC
Your ****** terrain framed by grizzly
gristle
and the batting stalks that give glimpses
of the bright bear cubs held within
hide the warm sunken caves
in your cheeks.
But the soft woven cover that so
delicately protects you still whispers
"come."
"come hibernate in my jawline."
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 6:24 PM UTC
I give you every word I know,
and yet I still have none.
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 8:57 PM UTC
i will be your summer.
all the mornings, nights
and days to amuse you,
peruse you and toss you
through the breeze.
I will be your summer
the fog, the bliss,
the sweet stars
that kiss your eyes.
the heat that engulfs
your soft voice.
my mind begs you
don't find hobbies,
a job, things to do.
my embrace is open
waiting for you
my fingertips shouting
i will be yours
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 8:55 PM UTC
There are forces working
Too large for me to assimilate,
Recreate,
Dominate.
Time, merciless and determined
Flows quickly through the thick mud of memories
I am caught in.
I see the diamonds of moments time leaves behind.
Encased in their reflection
I stand.
Sticking to myself
While time dances.
A mad dance,
Grotesque and sinister to my pleading eyes,
Begging time to slow to a walk,
And to wander with me through memories.
Those dim and desired,
Blurred and Bright,
Lucid and Loathed.
Some are damaged,
Murky in picture,
But the feelings remain raw,
Fluid and forceful
Flowing in torrents both newly birthed and immutable.
It is clear now,
Time cannot ******* emotion,
And must chase it.
Tumbling on emotion's traces.
In evasion of time, emotion comes full circle.
Caught on the swift cataracts of emotions elusion,
I trip.
Stumbling once again,
Falling farther behind,
As I run after time.
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 8:03 PM UTC
It seems the world keeps spinning,
through hard times, painfully.
But when your world has reason,
it turns with new velocity.
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 8:01 PM UTC