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The crows are going
  to rise up
over the black asphalt
  city skyline

singing into the
  blood red sky
   hearts crowned
    with fire and hope

flying high and free
   flying over
     the mountain tops

singing of the
   promised land

singing for the dead
   but not forgotten

singing words
  of flame
    and poetry

singing for
   freedom
     and unity
 Nov 2017 Christine Ueri
mike dm
and she spoke,
and her lips were myth;
her tongue, song:

forehead scar shone
lodes of rune
re-membered ember
of yesteraeon soot cooked
sitting fire in ashen ire re-sired

without him

her self
felt, *******
clod alive

tooth of skull
culled forth
bone spoken
tomes uttered

and i felt her light enter
this dilating space
of ebb and ruin and alone

stile of mine
thresheld, again
footfall of wynd,
blown open
into dope field sprung swim
All I want is someone with a broken heart
and a tattered soul
and a kind smile
that is still willing to love
and we don’t have to love each other specifically
as long as we both just love to love
because facts and details become boring
and bodies age
and the same jokes might still be funny
but the haha’s have lost their edge
and isn’t love all we are
what are we other than the answer
to the last prayer falling
from the lips of a dying god
gone mad from being alone
in the emptiness that once was
and spit us out of the womb
of its dream that felt the pains
of first becoming aware
and we drifted and floated
and slowly covered its corpse
and wasn’t it beautiful then
when love was a singular vibration
and thread that connected us
one and all through dreams and death
and then somehow we lost touch
and became complicated
and advanced and civilized
and addicts and abusive and abused
and divided and conquered
and molded and cut and boxed
and domesticated and foreign and distant
and love became a postcard
and a postage stamp
and a card for a holiday
for this cheap replication of living
for this miserable thing we make out of life
so give me your broken heart
and your tattered soul
and your kind smile
and bore me with the details
and I’ll hang on every one
and we’ll get old
and laugh at the same joke
till we’ve fallen over the edge
and gone mad
and we’ll bury ourselves
in the corpse of the god
that gave birth to us all
was a clarity to being beaten. to arriving before clockwork. a clarity also in the poems of his abuser. psalm and caricature. snail and gasmask. I miss hand, he’d say. because it misses raft.
i.

in a city of leaves
a wilderness of moon
and her shadows
climb high
in a drowsy sky
that dreams of
golden lamps
and avenues of stone.

ii.

you told me
that you loved me,
under a sky of lizard grey,
with wild inks that sang of
all the promises of winter.

iii.

i kissed your neck, wrapped
to your love and its
tremendous sea,
a wave flowing with
the current,
drawn to the shadowy shore.

iv.

your kiss like the layers
of dark cloud,
you were jealous of me
as you pushed me to
the wall, and i
said i am yours, i
will always be yours.

v.

night’s fiery arches,
a swift god,
the thunderous steps of
the clouds.
He carved her bones out of the soft spots of time
and the fires of eternity
and cooled and smoothed them in the rivers
that ran down from the mountains
where the old gods were rumored
to have gone mad and fallen asleep
beyond the knowledge and prayers
of all things that breathed and lived
and loved and hoped

He started with the caves that would form the pools
in which her eyes would sleep
and dream and wonder
and then shaped her skull around them
leaving out no detail or necessity
making each curve and line as important as the last

With her head complete he moved to each bone
that would be her spine with the same delicate care for perfection
and from her spine he then formed her ribs
making sure to reinforce each one
yet leave them flexible as it would be their function
to protect her heart and give it room to bloom and grow

He formed a bone of intricate nature
in the center and front of her
for the ribs to attach themselves to
and placed two bones along her collar
and blades on the left and right of her back
from which her arms would sway and swing
and hold things close

and then moved down and began
to chisel out the hills and arcs of her hips
where her legs would hang and twirl and spin
and then chipped away at time and eternity
to fashion every tiny bone of her feet
on which she would walk and run
and leap and dance upon

With the rest of her bones complete
he began to tenderly shape
and cut and sculpt each bone in her hand
making sure they would be pliable and limber
with a touch of delicacy and strength
for with her hands she would weave
dreams and life and love

With the last of her fingertips carved
and cooled and smoothed
and pulled from the river
he laid her bones out carefully one by one
on a blanket that he had stolen
from the robes of death
from the time before gods and men
and stars and trees and language
the time that only spirits and animals
moved through the velvet indigo
of the night sky
and prowled the cosmos alone
to their own songs and laws

He pulled thread from light not yet born
and the black from shadows yet to be cast
and twisted them together
and slowly began to pull her bones into place
and braid and twine her flesh and skin
and hair and eyes
and as her body and shape were completed
he started to weave and sculpt
and form her heart
with the most urgent of care
and within he hid the secrets
of colors to be unseen
and an endless spool of fire
and silk and blood
and the importance of kindness
and compassion

With the last stitch pulled through
and tied and knotted and cut
he had worked himself down
to nothing more than a grain of sand
and dust and wind and he smiled
a tired and worn and complete smile

She was the envy and birth of beauty
and the jealousy and creation of desire
and the first of all dreams and things to come

With her flesh and her limbs and body
and heart complete and whole
and his worn out to near nothing
they made love without their lips touching
or kissing or sighing or moaning
or making any noise at all
and without their hands sliding
or gliding or holding
or their limbs twisting or tangling
or bending or contorting
they plunged through love
and fell into the river
and walked over the mountains
and tip toed past the sleeping gods
of old and forgotten lore
and danced and slept
in the fires of eternity
until she had dreamt of making him
and he had forgotten of making her
and both stories were true
and both only a dream
and some where in the distance of the past
where the time before once lived
and death and dream and love
once fought and lost and won
the wars and battles of long ago
something smiled and then vanished
I didn't pick my name
anymore than I asked for all this rain
to fall on my streets

I thank the good Lord above
Amelia didn't live to see this--me
in this chair, a leg lost to
the sugar diabetes

her cat disappearing
in the night

the water's to my waist now,
but I ain't cold--just hungry
and dog tired

last night with Noah's flood
arisin' I could have sworn I saw
two water moccasins slithering
around my one good leg

I did prayin' a plenty
and didn't sleep a wink

dawn came quiet--guess
the neighbor's rooster run off
for high ground

if there is any left on God's green earth

my ears are goin'
but I know I hear an outboard

someone is coming to save me
to pull me from this room turned to toilet

someone

the sound of that motor's fading...
they'll be back

in the meantime, I'll keep
calling for that cat

there's high spots
where she could be

and I could swear I saw
a ray of sunshine through
those clouds

and when they come for me
I'll tell them my name

give them a good laugh

Dickinson, Texas, August 28, 2017
 Apr 2017 Christine Ueri
L B
And the emptiness now
lets the memory howl
and bang its head
off the sheer walls of never—

Engulfed in consequence as it rolls in
fog or smoke?
In any case—

lonely

looks like this--
numb and cool and slow-moving
grayish-white fingers
reaching for molecules of air
while the reign of suffering comes like fine drizzle
over
springtime over....

Desire perishing in a crisis of will
In the thickets of panic—
bronchial spasms expand seconds
at an open window
Choking, congestive, failure of heart!
in the face of what it means to be...
not being

...as I came into this world
breach and not breathing
to my mother’s horror!
Alone
Scrapping, gasping, grappling for breath

I love life
I LOVE--   life!

Love—
inexpressible, inessential fool of a child

Love ripped apart at the v
old one
anaphylaxis-- to an antibiotic
Since you prejudged me
as a Crypto-Jew
all you've done is moan
the woe is me, **** the system
"I have been through more than you"
tough chica, broken bone
I possess more wisdom
than you do
Angry, lash out
impotent hate-filled
been done before spew.
I sent a dove to stick a branch
in your bear trap
and you laughed at me
and mocked me
like the angry, hypocritical
infant you are.
Basic physics.
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