Puffs of smoke,
Hanging high

Each blow,
A held-on drop in the sky.

Inhale, exhale,
But never let out,

Inhale, exhale,
Another forgotten shout.

Would I still curse the rain?
Even if I knew I'd never see it again

Would I still plead for a release?
Even if I knew it'd be the end of peace.

Do you feel the angels?
Do you hear their song?

As the snows comes falling
Do you wish you could fall along?

In the night sky
Do you stare on out?

As the voices whisper
Do you want to scream and shout?

I won’t tell you,

How good you have it.

Though it’s true

It seems you know all about it.

Do you hear the barking dogs?
As you close your eyes

Do you feel the breeze?
As I find that you will slowly die

A midnight dream.

We flow across the stream.

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it----

A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a **** lampshade,
My right foot

A paperweight,
My face a featureless, fine
Jew linen.

Peel off the napkin
0 my enemy.
Do I terrify?----

The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.

Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me

And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.

This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.

What a million filaments.
The peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see

Them unwrap me hand and foot
The big strip tease.
Gentlemen, ladies

These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,

Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.

The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut

As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.

Dying
Is an art, like everything else,
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.

It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical

Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:

'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge

For the eyeing of my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart----
It really goes.

And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood

Or a piece of my hair or my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.

I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby

That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.

Ash, ash ---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----

A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.

Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.

there is
inside me
at my deepest part
a little black ball
of rage

i don’t know how it got there
well, that’s only half true
i don’t know how it quite got there
at my core
at the heart of my being
but i know when it got there
hewn hard into my flesh
my mind, bones
tempered into me each night
my matriarch’s take
on hephaestus’s forge
and each morning
quenched in the light of day
each walk to school
under the sun’s yawning beams
miasma erupting from my pores
the liminal release before
the cycle began
anew

so, suffice it to say,
it’s in there deep.
DEEP deep.
and it reminds me every day.
hissing out from my heart
seething out of my skin
the steady sssssssss
of it always in the periphery
BGM for my life
like whatever that Animal Crossing theme is called
but sharper
a slicing sliver of steam

most days
she’s content to rest easy
in the wet dark alcoves inside me
a passive hum of her slumbering ember
rattling from my chest

on others
she demands her freedom
tells me i don’t deserve the reins
tells me i need her to lead us
i say “no”
she rouses
sizzling note rising to a low rumble
she says yes
i say No.
first
a jet of flame
burning bright blue white
like the first blazing pinions
from a piece of fresh firewood
seared sap seeping into
sssssssss
down to deep crimson
a spider lily dancing out of me
showing me
beautifully bouncing
and it’s tempting to get lost in that
get lost in the beauty of a renegade part
of your very own soul saying
****. That.
saying
****. You.
there’s something profound about it
(and someday, i hope a wiser person than i can tell you about it)
but getting lost in it is a snare
a distraction
more importantly
there’s the
ssssssssseething

if you listen hard now
the little black ball
she says
sssssssss
no one will ever understand you
sssssssss

another burst of light
that sinks sallow
from it
she shrieks
sssssssss
your only talent is pain
sssssssss

now a cascade
SSSSSSSSS
she roars now
a lioness tearing her way out of me
into me
she says
you know it would be better if it was just all gone  
my back erupting
a billowing cloak of indignant ignition
stoked by memories of midnight visitors
with knives or less
and christmas eves in dank dirt rooms
of ****** tears and well-tended wounds
and this is part of the temptation, to be honest
to just              

                                burn
with
it

to let go and feel
fall to it all
to succumb to the anger.
sorrow. vengeful vigor.
ambrosia would feel like this
ultimate release
my metaphorical form Usagi mid-transformation

                                 We
Burn

and i’m gone

there’s no me
just us
just her
we’re a phoenix of rage
she sneers through my teeth
a cheshire grin in smoke
she leers through my eyes
unblinking and vulpine
together, we cut down forests
burn and salt the earth
in devastation there is clarity, ya know?
we seethe
we embrace
in that flame
we connect
we seethe
shrieking a banshee’s call
unheard to all
but us
We
Seethe

and it feels amazing
truly
but as we all know
there is a cost to such things
and the cost of flames is steep
so. not plan A.

she needs out though
my little black ball
and i think she deserves to seethe
she deserves to rage
and so, some days,
i let her out
i let her out
here
right here
she reaches for you
wants you to know
the burden and blessing
the sorrow
the anger
the hiss of her voice
she wants to be known
she wants you to know her
you're almost there
it only burns for a moment
can you hear her?
can you hear her
sssssssss?

my heart is a lie;
a false adoration for
all, but riddled in
silent sharp truths

I remember a girl…

Her hair branched
out like tree roots,
but shine like crimson
leaves of autumn bloom.
The last thing I saw,
I noticed her eyes.
Her eyes glow
cold but bright—
Her dark sea blue eyes
could stare out from
the endless ocean
miles within.

Her skin,
covered in scars.
The Crooked Man
cut through  
her beautiful
skin.

The last thing I heard.
Her voice—
A sound of
nature’s broken
beauty.
An echo haunting—
almost of a violin
screaming for peace.
Her heart’s stolen
by the shadows,
lurking inside
her cold, dark
Sea Blue Eyes