in my heart's deserted street—
on the road and the cornucopia
of twists, and the unmindful turn:
surrounded by white-bellied,
inward-breaking, bright-boned creatures
as oblivion falls flat on the cage
rimmed with the glint of a scene's
surrounding peril.
what to make of it, now that i am alone?
the gladiolus is cut and my heart
sings winterward.
i can paint now with blood—
naked boys eaten by serpents,
a home fractured in the middle
of flightlessness. the sunlight,
the lie, the feigned sublimation of moon,
the audible death of star, felled on the floor, laughing, squirming insanely
on a waving line, water not warm enough
to bathe in, this serious multitudinously-blooded sea where i find
nobody at all.
cutting the silence,
bleeding the noise,
emptying the horizons,
filling only the streets,
but never myself.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
in my heart's deserted street—
on the road and the cornucopia
of twists, and the unmindful turn:
surrounded by white-bellied,
inward-breaking, bright-boned creatures
as oblivion falls flat on the cage
rimmed with the glint of a scene's
surrounding peril.
what to make of it, now that i am alone?
the gladiolus is cut and my heart
sings winterward.
i can paint now with blood—
naked boys eaten by serpents,
a home fractured in the middle
of flightlessness. the sunlight,
the lie, the feigned sublimation of moon,
the audible death of star, felled on the floor, laughing, squirming insanely
on a waving line, water not warm enough
to bathe in, this serious multitudinously-blooded sea where i find
nobody at all.
cutting the silence,
bleeding the noise,
emptying the horizons,
filling only the streets,
but never myself.
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