1

Another space arrives. The newborn cries.
And the destiny determined:
Oven or matchstick.

Descendant of both; inheritor of another:
A machine that dreams itself into being,
Dragging its sleeping subjects after it.

Sustenance of nightmares, the food of what
God is, blood the earth pumps forth.
The plastic legacy is siphoned off,

Its artifacts cheap jewellery:
Enamel glinting white and turquoise.
Flimsy chains that never last,

And yet last forever, the paint flaking off.
So too does the rust on this delicate orchid.
It is an oracle of poisons.


2

The city burns in its incandescence.
The indelible halo
Of a lime-green candelabra

Makes light of midnight. Our slumber is
Punctured by gunshots and the drone of the
Ambulance.

Not a foot but a juggernaut,
Pandora’s box,
Sowing the seeds of your distress.

Fallout marks the potent epoch.
The neon octopus spews it back,
Invisible print on the murderous air.

Where water drinks
No diving bell can bear
The pressure of such fuchsia.

Survivors carry
The lives of those who have passed
Into the new world

Visiting my parents I learned
that I am being played,  a game
in which I am board and piece and ****** weapon.
When a picture of me sulky toddler evokes “You always hated me”
roots uncurl hibernated spores stored
through my salad days and youthful spring.
Broach the soil as I ****, ankles grabbed,
leg-locked planted firm reaching.
What do you think grows down there? Digging has
turned up rotted fibers, matted hairs and husks.

and i wonder
if i have inherited traits
that do not leave scars
if they have passed down
genes without rips
like his sense of humor
and her smile

and suddenly
i am afraid of the mirror
because all i see
is his inability to change
and her belief that she can save men
who do not love her

Oh you fretful bee!
All Heaven and earth are yours
God never runs empty

That's what they say, never trust any type of genius like that.
It's called the inheritance and selection.
And this is gonna be better than this and better than that.
Like we always do.
Because we are so smart, dark and lovely. We always have fun and a good time tonight.
No complaints, no exceptions and no warnings.
We always stay safe and we always stay warm. There's everything to do with the inheritance and selection.

Anonymous. 12/16/2015.
©2015 by Trevon S. Haywood.

I remember you tall.
Running marathons with ease as the
Portland breeze was my only relief as I
Staggered behind to a crawl, you – you

You turned back,
Picked me up and said the blisters on my
Feet showed a need to push harder – to attack and I –
I wanted to keep going. To fight through tears and blisters

Sitting in the corner of your office.
Small firm accounting. Where I had my first
Toffee, you excelled at numbers, serving rich and crass
You smilled, sipped your coffe, flipped through pages fast
One day, you went to the store. You
came back empty-handed, like a child forgetting a chore, you
you looked confised, but your wrinkled smile didn’t fade.
At least, not until you
At least, not until you – you
You
Forgot my name.

A life is a collection of memories
And hopes
And for you – for you
-for you that was
Fading

My fear wasn’t as loud as
The “nope” I was saying

Like all
My well wishes could stop
The ***** you were slipping
Like – like

Like I could have the audacity
To force you into
Into staying
Your gray beard, your
Coffee staining your shirts and
Your jackets
Weighing heavy

The tracks
My
Tears were laying when your

Your last word to me was “hey”
Trying to stop
Stop my crying in vain

Now
These jackets weighing
Weighting too heavy on grandma, she
She put them on my shoulders
The soft leather
Felt more like a
Boulder, my
My
My arms
Slipped through the sleeves,
Sleeves crawled at the wrist
Funny, I remembered you
tall

stick and stones and electricity
that's what you are made of.
there is a spark, a burning to this world.
it'll hurt, when you fall. i know it will.
made you those wings myself.
try to imagine: lit match, candle flame,
bare feet in the snow.
turn your head, avert your gaze
but your hand reaches out, body leaning forward.
resistance can only last so long. i should know.
you tried, baby,
and that has to count for something, right?
sticks and stones and sparks
that's what you are made of
what you will return to
in the end, your end.
hurts to even think about
constellations flickering in and out of existence
my solemn oaths following right after.
it'll hurt when you fall
wanting to so badly despite
or maybe because.  i know. I know.
made a mistake in your creation
handed down a flaw
one of my very own
sins passed along
side by side with that ratty teddy bear.
stitched right in.
i didn't mean it. too late.
this wasn't what i wanted. too late.
you burn the way i do
you'll burn the way i do.

At the feet of the sublime
Sculpture of this Galaxy
I am in awe of how quickly
The billions of years went by

A dream of the key of water
We walked upon a floor of
Crystal, in many forms
And our souls traveled to peaks

Virtual landscapes and subliminal
Recognition that we had seen
All that we visited there, experience
Was itself an invocation of

The highest order, capable of
Giving us emotions of the divinity
Of things, the lips of the sun ablaze
As a forgotten god laughing

Barefoot we made it through
Evolution like a story of all those
Sleeping lands, we created in them
With the will of our intelligence

It is not possible here to reproduce
All the characteristics of the original
Edition of the human journey
Progress is a succession of signs

The courses we adopted were somehow
Emphasized by instinct, like
The yearning to speak or the hope
That if we write about our consciousness

Something of our independent uniqueness
Might separate into others, like how
A poem influences other writers.