spit
into the mouth
of a
mortal
after they've been
smeared across
time
and space
with a touch
or a kiss
and
like a Greek myth
they shall forget what's what

see
ebony red white
shriek across their
flitting
closed eyelids

watch them
rise
then fall

i know the routine

the come down
-gone ballistic-
gravity takes the wheel

what will you bring back
after the door has been cracked?

how will you -ever-
tell others
about your
pirouette into
the space in-between the lines?

they will call you "mad"

its a fact that

i remember things that never were
trusswork of
littlegod tendril
wrapped around my feels
a dais for tor or
a dazed whirr
for her

dear A,

i scarified my hand with
the glowcherry of a cig
sitting in my car
outside your house
on that summer nite
so that i could forget less
the trap of love

it is not a thing

create
rig
do what it takes to
make beautiful the truth
but do not reach or love
like it is a thing that
wants to be found