touka

touka Dec 2017

the subsets of his haunts
organized and packed away
tugged and pulled and pushed
like hefty parcels and
the tension in his fingertips
like the prickle and pop
of pins under and over and in his skin

and the subtle swell of dread
swirling in his stomach
from a nightmare he had the other night
the happenings in which he couldn't quite remember
but it bothered him more that he couldn't
perhaps if he could just remember
it would clue him in to the catalyst of the day
if his subconscious had predictive powers, that was.
but he felt like something not good was going to happen
and whenever he had that feeling–which was, ad nauseum–something not good usually, eventually transpired
and that was enough to let him know

like something trembling the equilibrium
in the labyrinth behind your ears
to pull him like his hefty parcels
left and right, side to side
the feeling would tug on him about his day
but he wouldn't change its course

"december's sweating, don't sweat it all
I'll dance with the dog paws or dance with the hogs"

touka Oct 2017

après tu

shroud me in
his warm silhouette
do soften me still
to the tugs on the barrow
to the honeypot and rosa peace sitting
some too fragrant in the sill
to tendrils of queen anne's lace
silking up the wheel

lost in his travail
to his oil soiled clothing
and pearly white chrysanthemums
and lilies for my biding
when I might again
see him tinkering and typing

to oleander twining
'round the spine of his shade

to the sweet scent brewing in the kettle
so, soon his perennials
settle into themselves
coiled wire around their stems
to conserve his oeuvre fair and open on their shelves
so, if not much else, I might then keep them blooming well

#love

touka Oct 2017

pangs

as unlikely in love as

sand is not to toss under the wind

the southside is to sleep at night

stone is to soften against your head

as rain is to not be wet

but the stinging sensation
when you left

"the pain isn't real, just chemicals tellin' my brain how I ought to be"

#romance #love #bleh #pain

touka Oct 2017

cloudburst

and without much provocation
the cloud burst overhead, lent so weary to its own weight
the small boy froze, gripping the handle of someone else's umbrella so tightly that his knuckles turned white, quietly trying to assure himself that he could survive
until the rain would calm to a gentler drizzle
though, that was not the case as soon as imagined, as the heavy pour droned on amaranthine, despite best hopes and wishes, and the soft, shaken murmurs of a song pleading it to retire for... some indefinite amount of time
so he settled under a nearby storefront, sitting damp and cold,
biting his fingernails and tensing as he waited for the sobering flashes, the booming clacks of spring thunder that were sure to round the horizon as the storm made its way, and...
crash! bam!
he quickly lowered his head, recoiling and pulling his knees to his chest.
he supposed this was it, this was how he would die.
crash! bam!
he let out a low sob
and in a single moment, quite like the faint visions of life played out tauntingly in front of eyes in the moments just before death,
he recalled kicking his brother and making him cry
he recalled taking the juice box and not saying "thank you"
and he recalled affirming to his mom, after her rigid instruction, that, yes, he would be back before it would start to rain.

who used to be afraid of thunderstorms

#thunder #thunderstorm #anxiety #rain

touka Oct 2017

off

an anticipation hit me
in dim lit periphery
a darker sky swathed out
over a sea
set off so tender
stroking the reef
white light hung so low
a wash of pale and navy
poured onto lush green
as he leaned in to kiss me

if the ******* could be so easy
if we were caught in such a dreamy scene
carried ashore by the cling
of his hands wandering
sailing with the sting
and like the hacking and the coughing
when out of lungs came pouring
every unsaid thing
sand soaking up the drippings

I was perched on the cliff side
sent to stoke some man's eye
took the body but not the mind
wracking the shell I sleep inside
to test the careen on different tides
air under feet as the moon hung high
bargained for a swift crack on the collide

touka Aug 2017

wooden

soft and sallow
sulking, sunder, stroking willow
the sum of his parts
some tender, sundry other
sought southern shores, in silence
harrowing, path narrowing, but smiling
whiling away time – through glass, studying plant life
something cool glides on his skin
the tubes and trinkets beside him
cold mechanical contraptions slid inside him
from winding dolls and winding cars
to the wound machine that sets his breathing
keeps him afloat and keeps him blinking
keeps the wheel turning, lest its ceasing
though, like winding dolls and winding cars
he wonders, eyes following wind whirred plant life from afar
in time they slow and stop their moving
how long til I unwind and set apart

he stops and recalls the scraping sound
from the workings inside as they resound
from the yard, the bark of his hound
as mother trims the hedge around
he waits for the doll to slow its rounds
patiently waits for it to need wound

"wrap your arms around me, I'll be still."