#letham
got a pink bulb
suckered in mouth—
spit it out. dribble
gobstopper sun,
pause motion to
explosive creation
cake the surface
rubber dumb, POP!
sharp tap like a
snare bubble
vacuum record
in recycling bin
you had it made
su-per-ma-ssive
try again a same
chum the chew
begin renew
anew anew review
Feb 19, 2017
Feb 19, 2017 at 9:17 AM UTC
We own a pond;
mottled bluebottle,
flecked in freckles
when the sunlight
skims the surface
between the moss.
I dip a finger inside
and stir. A nebula
swills, swirling like
a whisk of spilt oil
from a water spot
sometimes found
underneath a car.
My fist plunges in,
embalming a gulp;
moss bandages
around the orb that,
withdrawing in drips,
I see a new world
set alight upon it.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 9:31 AM UTC
After the pay toll
I go down steps
to wait for a train
heading one way.
Glances reveal a
demon eyed glare
searching through
the dark tunnel,
a waft of air pushed
up against me, spins
the time I wait from
seconds to minutes.
I'm going underground.
It's warm, clinging
to soaked skin -
everyone is the same,
drenched in a fatigue
like tired ghouls
smothered in oil,
their bodies caskets
lined up as the day's
catch. We shuffle
into a viking funeral
riding the current
for the journey home.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
We hold onto
each other like
teeth trapping
new wisdoms,
heads crashing
through agony
as the jaw scrapes
and screeches like
demolition derbies.
We'll battle it out,
but who will last
until one is left?
No, drag my teeth
out of contention:
lasso a noose, yank
hard until whipped
numbly off track
to bleed the oil.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
I'll have roses,
daffodils, ivy
and snowdrops
in a bouquet
on my palette.
Slipping a taste
of one another,
a puddle is made.
It is murky like
hungover clouds
though now
with new regret
I understand
the mixing of
beautiful ideas
brings me pity
for my creation
formed through
pursuit of a dream
to a wretched being.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
Putting the receiver
to the cupped side
of my leaning face,
I'll listen to an old,
dead phone, a husk
with a sound echoing
inside like a seashell:
I tune into the static
as if they were waves
sweeping in and out
of my eardrum, hear
the whisper of voices
asking the operator
to pass on last sighs.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
Could you hold me up-
right, left to sit and stare
though your sifting smoke
columns like a spinal wisp,
wasting away time in your
beautiful lungs. I like to in-
hale the cast-away smiles
you hang over me, into me,
my mind lost in taste to how
your chest is as mild as May.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC
Choson dynasty,
you utter from a stub
on the stand's neck,
your eyes admiring
pimpled spaces or
the bulging curves
of the moon jar.
It is imperfect like
papier-mâché,
the hollow centre
surrounded by
a slumped figure:
two bodies thrown
as lovers, where,
noticing a crease
stretch the belly,
the mating halves
fuse to function
a wholeness like
the moon we make
when we hold hands.
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
keep an eye
on her church
mouth, place
a kiss upon
liquor thighs
then remember
she'll make you.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
I ask if you want to
escape
when maybe we're only
synthetic
bound together by the
wire
slipped between our
skins
filching at each other
inside
these metamorphosis
cocoons,
waiting for one to come
outside
of our shelled carbons
nearing
the brilliance of the city
lights
as though slops of rain
dancing
off of tall windows was
like
the sky setting itself on
fire.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 9:36 PM UTC
We let the align-
ment of our con-
tact create a new-
lyfound structure:
you dress our bed-
ding over frame-
work, shapes mold-
ing words on paper
as though our truth-
fully plaiting finger-
tips shape a stereo-
type linear tendency.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 5:33 PM UTC