I leave it to you with fondness.

How you used to fill it on those lazy Sundays
with fresh blooms from the neighbor's garden.

You would blame the kids from across
the street and we'd laugh
as their dad chased them around the yard
with a belt.

And when they would die, as they were wont to do,
you'd replace them with your paranoid
king's fiddlesticks.

He'd come out of the castle in a dither.

But you always convinced him
it was the handiwork of little green men
--who looked very much like
the kids from across the street.

Ah, remember the fire and how we danced?

Yes, my dearest captive
--the face that launched a thousand ships--

I leave it to you with only the warmest sentiments.

Love, Paris.

Corded muscles of the neck ferry the voice of sky,
Charon of words adrift in a salivary dislocated sine,
A fracture of breath, the stenciled rowing of a sigh.
Psychopomps of moonlight, past-throated vultures,  
Carrion of clouds even if stripped clean in vulpicide,
Even if our scorched and coining tongues tip at stars.

Μπλέ του πλοιου, μπλέ του αεροπλάνου
Και τα δύο θάνατος
Και τα δύο ταξίδι
Και στα δύο πνιγμός
Σπαραχτικός λιγμός
Τελευταία ανάσα
Τελευταία σταγόνα ουρανού
Ατέρμοτο γαλάζιο
Νερό και αέρας
Στοιχεία ατέριαστα
Στοιχεία τελευταίου ασπασμού.

feast your eyes onto this
soak it in
milk, blood, cherubim, and all
feast your eyes on this atrocity;
atrocity, tragedy, calamity
you can't help but look anyhow

tosses me into his bed
tosses me into his garden along with the tulips and chicken bones
waits for me to sprout next spring
i wonder how she'll be-
how she'll bloom
she'll spit ichor and honey through her teeth
annual or perennial
we'll never know

fret not, fret not-
breathe in the summer night
throw yourself down into the garden
bare your neck to the rose bush and forget it all
forget the cherubim
forget the milk
save the blood
save her

four arms
four legs
two faces

"haven't i-
haven't i seen you before?"

Vestal white roses,
Shed their serrated surface,
Then tainted in red.

Is
The
Northern
Lights
Or
souls
Of
The
******
Swimming
In
The
Riv­er
Styx
Within
hades

‘Aren’t you afraid of my darkness, my dear?’ Hades asked with mischief in his eyes.
‘No.’ Persephone replied, ‘You haven’t seen mine yet.’

As posiden rages
The cuirse ship
And other
Boats on the
Sea bobbing
In the violent sea
For he's angry