They are strings of letters unset
from their horizons.
Swollen ink smearing
their little stalks, serene, suffocated,
like pockets of dust, attended
but in passing. Pieces
of you—agile, remiss—
spark notes in shattered
melody. The dying refrain
only the echoes are staining. She
is like a tumbling highway,
still tumbling through full-stop.
Decay of sibilance;
Varying structural emphases;
Enjambment as emphasis;
Change in reference pronoun;
Line break with em-dash to de-emphasise the natural chiastic connotation of that device.
Blue amorphous tones
Her lunge, a vaporous sigh.
And down poured the Pacific:
callous, immutable, wild.
Remember the headrest—muted
and pasted to your arms.
How it felt to smother in voicelessness.
Remember hair stains, decade-weary leather.
Remember the revolutions around ourselves.
Remember as inky sky purples from sunlight;
Confront the oppressive curls of memory.
Sometimes these trees look absolutely terrifying, in the succumbed darkness, in the shadows, in plain sight. With their branches shining smugly through my doors, my windows; the way it moves, the way it twitches. Something of these trees and their branches is watching me, and I feel their eyes every second of the living day, and in the hours of the sleeping night.
She'd murmur "oh" to know
I'm dialing in the rain.
Muffled receiver to project an
Opus wholly mine. Picture
the murmur, shouldered.
Picture this chord, roaring in yellow tungsten,
Littered to the formless.
off to nowhere.
Orchard hedge, overrun and hazy.
as flowers in your arms decay.
Long to sleep softer.
Long to sleep softer, thereafter.
Shattered by foggy peaks.
written to: "apple orchard" by beach house