Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
JL Nov 2018
I am not but dust  
Yet this I do know:
You are a brass bone
In the most ancient of gods
A fiery point of light in
This novel machine
Regurgitating bruise- colored
& Novel universes
@ a whim

If life were true
I would build eleven marble cities
For you
And gilded spires
Twisting to
Knife the rose horizon
Would be my poetry unto you
JL Aug 2018
In brief: scalpel words so cheap
Misanthropic cold compress
Jaded and hard in denial
Heavely Medicated without

Mute Pain
Guilt soaked peace
Once more
At least
On this rock
I’ve built my church
And drunk of this poisoned cup

Salted sigh the spike
Do not resuscitate
For the bones of it
Are a pistol cool pressed
To a temple

Sleep without rest
Please, one more breath
Vein or scar
Blood loss
And the cost:
The cracks and lines from where you gave up, they make an easy man to read
JL Apr 2018
I bathe
In the moon-soaked
Ocean of you  
Soul to soul

pretend that you are
Sleeping next to me
Breathing next to me
multiplied and added powers
By the gleam of your laugh
JL Feb 2018
If ye are the white page
I shall be that black mark
Senseless confusion abides
I thy center
Cloudless sky
Or single bird be ye:
I die a million lives
Within thee
Reincarnated eternal
If it gives but a single breath
To your song
Negative Event
JL Jan 2018
With Grays and Blues
Awake before the grayscale
Is abolished by morning sun
Leaning naked in the doorway
Watching snow slip
In that silence before birdsong

walking crooked fenceline
The steam of horses
Nostrils flaring kiss her
As the dogs dance behind
snow still now on the hillside

She reads alone
Laughing spilled wine
words she drinks
Content to leave
The kitchen light on

curled again
Linen sheets and quilt
cool skin
She swims
In dreams
Of gray and blue
JL Mar 2017
You are the forty 7 sided polygon that I do not presume to understand. You exist in dimensions above my own.
You exist on planes beneath.
I beg

Beg to be a fly
Just to crawl upon you

the Sistene chapel of you

To kiss my antenna
Against your skin
And test the scent  of your solitude

How the fates have spun
Eleven threads that did not cross
But once

Our fibers touched-
And I lowly spun

When once our threads did touch
JL Jan 2017
Next page