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Daisy King Oct 2015
There is more to be said
in the wordless breaths of sleep
than one supposes

when the breaths are sharing space
between two dreamers
touching noses.
Daisy King Jul 2015
You were high as the hill you climbed in the night
up to the dog that's a tree, all bark. The birds bite-
there's a ****** of crows- don't stop to stare
Take and make bows from those that billow in my hair.
Do you know the question marks that follow all you say
can be bent into arrows? You fire away.
You never meant to be kind but your eyes shot stars
out into the skies. We both are shooting blind,
The answers we find were never ours.
There's been a ****** of crows- feather as blade.
We put away the arrows for I was afraid
I can't say for sure whether birds died in the dark
but the pure Green Man's song was in the dog tree's bark.
As the trees protect you, Green Man folds in your arm
The birds respect you. They sing, 'do no harm'.
Daisy King Jun 2015
Boating on the canal made me notice summer's return for the first time
and immediately I missed winter. The way my head  tilted forward,
spine protruded. I spat fire and ash, a small dragon;
my skin sagged like a coat on a cold blue hanger.

One morning after I'd spent the night with a boy,
while he showered I saw a skeleton in his wardrobe mirror
so ugly in loose underwear, the darkened hair lank,
skin grey and sunk to bone and it all disappeared
when turned to one side.
How could he share a bed with that? I thought then,
seeing clear how I existed for the reality of others,
as a shell, offensive to the eye, a skull-head.
-
The voices came not long after,
and in clinic bathrooms
a coyote hungry stare,
the silence of September.
For thousands of days I had not felt my body.
In my mouth grew ulcers and teeth died.
,
I really did stare at the sun and started drinking water again,
Slowly started eating again until I managed pasta and pie.
My body now- I think I'm touching my arm but instead feel thigh.
There are the bones of an elephant
gravely buried inside me.
There  are phantom limbs attached,
they belong to soldiers who shared beers
in Vietnamese hideouts,
they belong to the widows who lose their wedding rings
down the garbage disposals.
Daisy King Apr 2015
They shall fight
(them)
on the beaches and with growing confidence
and growing strength in the air,
(we shall)
never surrender,

and they fought and never gave in because we will never stop
because finding peace is like locating Nirvana,
as Kerouac said,

then we set our alarms to the atomic clock
and on the radio they tell of a President,
some well-spoken man with a halo effect, I'm sure friendly as any,
ordering for the bomb to be dropped
because he was always meant to

Millions disappear, living people there and then not,
because it was always going to happen
and people can point fingers
How could they? How could it be?
Because it's you and me.

We are ripples in a series that create city-wrecking waves.
We drown each other.
We are not destructive because we are evil.
We are you and me.

Our parents, our stranger fellow commuters, our heroes, our enemies,
our fiction, all conspiring, and it all adds to this.

Our wars- we are all soldiers and all politicians and all victims
of a lot of all our shared bad decisions
and all the consolations
like the great loves and great distances.
Daisy King Apr 2015
n2o
Isn’t this the simplicity of being? The ultimate irrefutable answer
to every question and questions only make us upset
- then I can see in my tracks
the black spot.
They said among pirates it was the mark of death
William isn’t afraid of dying and says it’s pointless
if you want it because it puts an end to
nothi
Daisy King Mar 2015
Wilting and whitening
abandoned in the sun.
I thought of dying but decided
wallowing would be more fun.

I thought to cut my palms
as if opening a letter
but then decided
cutting your throat would be better.
Daisy King Mar 2015
Trying  to do cartwheels
over rough raw hands
and landing on two feet
in disappearing sands.
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