What glory could settle the breeze?
In the days and nights that my mouth goes dry,
what road upon which an army marches does suffer a well to be dug,
and what cities fall that could bring a cup to my lips?
Words like yours incite no war cries to rally,
but they bring the rain when you call upon the clouds to drift.
And does my hunger make me foolish? Does my imagination run
          wild
Because it has never felt the weight of a wise thought?
Am I simple? Do my curiosities reveal my ignorance? Do I ask too
          much, or too often?
What does a love letter to a poet make the man with the pen desire?
Is it the laughter of a budding affection? Or the pity that brings a first
          chance?
Perhaps he offers up the voice in his soul
hoping that it will be cannibalized by a tongue that tastes nothing
          bitter
in the murmuring recitation of clumsier words.
I feel I should know.
But if I must be clumsy, and simple, and ignorant, too much or too
          often,
I can only wish for my clambering gait to still be swift enough
to catch you as you amble
from thought to thought.

When in the spring I began to walk, I encountered you, O Dellingr;
You, who was quiet, and tranquil, and who lifted the sun just above
          the lake
That sparkled with your light’s reflection. O Dellingr! I met you in
          the spring
And parted with you in the winter cold, and oh how I’ve missed
          you…!
I have longed to meet you again at the lakeside where I sat
And was soothed by the birdsong
And looked upon the shining waters
And became enraptured by the love I felt in my own heart
Before you gave Dagr his reins and sent him to his mother.
O gentle god, O light reborn, O third lover and day-maker,
Will you sit with me again?
Here at the lakeside,
Will you fill my lungs with “I love you”s
And caress my cheek with your most calming breeze?
O dayspring, O Dellingr, please enchant me here,
And over and over,
And when I fall from the sight of this world, let me fall upon a
          lakeside knoll
And sit with you again.

I have built with broken bones,
I have bent what simply breaks.
Skin to center, I have forged myself from steel.
And steel may melt and coil and collapse,
But I have befriended the dawn, the day, the dusk;
The flames of Sól are the feathers of my wings
And my courage frightens fear,
And my words give form to force,
And now the phantasms of every wish I have kept are given flesh.
Witness my rise, and if I seem to fall, watch me closer; my flight is far
          from finished.

When the Earth made you, she flecked your skin with seeds,
Tossing handfuls of black soil all across your shoulders
And sowing in your body the strength to thrive.
Your hair grew like man’s first fire,
Red and thrashing like a fish in the sea,
The sea where, now and then, your mother feeds you the flesh
Of the scorched men whose ships fear your fanned red skies
And find their burial mounds in the deepest sands
          under the flash of your light;
Men who feel your firm black soil again at the doors of your hall
And make themselves full with food and drink
And Hellos to friends so long and fervently missed.

My form obeys my wants,
My mind obeys my will.
Hear me now and listen, my steeling soul.
I see my destination;
A path, I design.
For this task, my own strength will suffice.
Within my chest, my lungs strain and struggle,
But they breathe the air in the highest, thinnest skies—they struggle,
          and I grow stronger.

Windborne boat, you now will sink
When you hear my baneful song
Calling storm and squall.
Rains will pour and flood your decks,
Your passengers the sea will drive
Betwixt its teeming teeth.
Bones the sea will take into
Its watery sands, and there it shall make tombs that time forgets.

in the space between my ribs you planted a larkspur
you cracked the bones and wrenched the fragments apart
and you gave my heart a seed to grow

you were an invasive species
and i only wanted to see you flourish
had i known that you would smother me
and entomb me away from the sunlight that i love
i would have torn up your roots and cast them away
before they ever had the chance to suffocate mine

A wild god grants no wishes, but miracles spill from his lips; thick and crude and unpolished words that snap and bite at your ankles. And so do your footfalls cause the earth to tremble, for his gifts are not for receiving. A wild god’s blessings receive you.

He eats the flesh raw. A wild god carves no arrows, strings no bows, crafts no swords or axes. He scoops you from the river and sinks his teeth into you as you squirm, tender flesh giving way to the mouth that bloodies itself with doubt and hesitation and tremors of the mind. He deals in terror, takes fear in exchange for a glass of wine.

A wild god dwells in temples, sleeps on marble floors and wakes in the night for the hedonists that chant his name, singing Io, Io, Io! He slips into the crowd to mark the ground with footsteps and spittle and *****, chanting Io, Io, Io! What glorious decadence! What beautiful debauchery ensues on the mountainside.

A wild god ruins parties with the shades of lessons unlearned, entering cracks in the mind and festering, bringing forth memories of agony and aches and falling apart. A wild god makes walls when you run from ghosts, and smiles as you fall to your knees in tears.

For a wild god grants no wishes, but miracles fall from his palms; smoldering like charcoal and lighting little fires to keep you warm in the night as you learn to make your own. Up and up and up they rise, and the flames seem a beacon of hope.

A wild god raises the ground you stand on and whispers “Io.”

i wish i knew how to say “i want to help you see me”
without making you hear “i want to destroy all that you know”
for all that you wound me, i still love you
god, do i love you
and i wish i could say for sure that you knew

blood of my blood, son of my mother
brother of mine as i am your brother
when you speak, you scald me so
to let myself close to you one moment
is to sear my own lips closed the next
the fire of your disapproval burns hotter than you know
and i can lead you to water, but i can’t make you drink
all my efforts earn me
is a place to cool the blisters you leave along the way

brother mine, if you love me, then tell me
because the more you speak, the more i’m unsure
if you even want to know me
i want so much to help you understand
foolhardy though it may be, i haven’t given up on you
but every day, i think more and more
that you’ve given up on me

i’m sorry, love
if you were expecting me to whisper sweetness in your ear
and fall apart in your hands, torn asunder
by the burning, aching love in my chest
then i am not the man you thought i was.

i am biting words and bruising hands
and everything i never wanted to be
truly, love
all i want to be is dust in the wind
my heart can’t take this
there is an ache, to be sure
but it isn’t bittersweet or sentimental and it certainly isn’t beautiful
i hear nothing through the din of snarling and snapping teeth
in the deep dark empty pit of my brain
and though you tell me to drown the foul beast out
to fight him with everything i’ve got
the truth is that i have already been gutted and bled dry
and i have nothing left to give.

i tried, i swear i did
but i am ugly inside, through and through
no matter how much you want me to say i’m not
and i can’t change
              i can’t change
                           i can’t change

if rouge and tallow could tell secrets
if i could divine anything
from the iron oxide and wax that stains the sink basin
what would i learn?
if i could trace this pigment
back to your eyes
would i see it stream down your flushed cheeks
before you so viciously scrubbed it off last night?
would i see saltwater rivers
breaking through a coal-black dam
an ever-fragile monument crumbling for a boy
who will only ever offer his love to girls
no matter how you doll yourself up
no matter how lovely you may feel
in that billowing skirt that fits so nicely
over your soft and rolling stomach

my friend, your tears were not meant for the likes of him
your hands were not meant for the hands of that kind of boy
the boy that you are looking for
will not leave you weeping over the bathroom counter
shoulders trembling even as you feel silly for weeping at all
hands to your mouth to stifle the sounds of your despair
and your heartbreak
as if i would admonish you for feeling.

there will come a day when i will never again
have to wonder what was the name of the boy
that caused such tremendous turmoil in the pit of your chest

there will come a day when i will never again
see the remnants of such a miserable flood
staining the sink basin, breaking through the dam

there will come a day when i will never again
have to wish for your happiness
because i saw your tired, lonely eyes and the sleep you lost

when you find the boy meant for your heart
the only stains he will cause will be to his own honeyed mouth
as he pulls away from your painted lips
to press his forehead to yours
and whisper such adoring endearments
as to make you forget that there was ever a time
before Him & You.

when he pressed his soft mouth upon yours
you were pliant, moving like the sea
back and forth and back and forth
bestowing unto him a kind of carnage
to smash apart his fear

you felt his sighing exhale upon your cheek
as he pressed on, far too eager
far too soft-headed
can you imagine?
a boy with lips like cherries
a boy who brushed his leg against yours
a boy who decided to be bold
a boy who decided you were worth the risk

you were so very eager to reward him for his courage
and it was so simple to slip your fingers between his knuckles
under the table where all the well dressed acquaintances sat
and it was so exhilarating to whisper to him
in secrecy, to so surreptitiously excuse yourself
and wait.

when the cherry-mouthed boy entered
and locked the door behind him
and descended upon you
you ran your palms up his stomach
and higher, and you felt his heart thundering in his chest

you kissed him like the starving boy that you were
displaying your hunger so nakedly
for every sigh, there was a kiss
for every kiss, a silent plea:

‘please, please, please,
don’t disappear.
i have been staring into the great maw of loneliness
and i don’t want to be swallowed back up again, not ever

‘may your heart’s beating be the tempo by which i live
and if you walk, let me walk alongside you

‘no matter how you live, let it be a life spent in mine.’

godspeed, you pretty thing
you lonely and disappointed boy
neverland spat you back out
when you wished for ripe 23 to stay
no more, no more, no more!
your chants echoed in the halls of your castle
the stone chambers where you cowered from fate
crumbling around you
but when the sky opened up above you
you took it into yourself
and you breathed the cool air into your lungs
and you drank the crisp rain into your stomach
and you smelled the scent of the distant future
and you hungered.

where are you now?
did the mountain wind howl in your ears
to convince you that life was more than
the space between a mattress and a blanket
or maybe the tides crashed a little too loudly
on the shore where you walk
and perhaps the water caressing your ankles
made you weep deeply
and throw yourself into the sea
into the ever changing and ever moving water
perhaps you realized a thing or two
and you saw your own blossoming potential
and you found what it meant to be proud
and you chased down your future
and you banished the fear of time from your heart

the door is off its hinges, your derelict castle is no more
gone are the days when you could not meet fate’s eye
today is the day you look destiny in the face
and you plant yourself where you stand
and you say
“i will have you as i like,
and you. you will obey.”