"blears" poems
gathered the storms,
and gathered the winds
of undying suffering.
sufferings of pleasure,
psychedelics of exalted warmth
stalked and stumbled
around the planetary man;
the dying and the undying
the man and the un-man
both together excited to the darkest night.
who lost is unknown to me;
the wall blears the boundary.
unfixed the shape,
darkness deepens the dancing dolphins;
sanity swirls,
words skip the stray lips
as if forgotten bones collapse and crumble.
seaming with flabby fragments
the mouth of Thermopylae.
drawing a stick out of spillikins.
there remains the tongue-tied taciturn;
as if dead and done to bones.
Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 2:23 PM UTC
New Year's Eve dark at 4:30,
a dilation like a pleasured eye:
stray clouds pull themselves
across the clarity
& stars smudge unreasonably
across taffy-thin years of light,
long inviting blears.
I am peeling away from myself,
half-drunk on the absence of grief,
half-drunk on my lovely neighbor's wine:
it's funny how little moments
can pull together the murmuration
into a pattern you can hold:
I feel possibilities, sour morsels
of old dreams going loose
into the frozen nacre of street,
into the cubic alleyways,
rain smiles light as *****
But moments don't hold,
something turns off -
the clouds are burning alive
in a songbird's oubliette.
The bastille falls
all the prisoners escape.
Dec 31, 2022
Dec 31, 2022 at 7:48 PM UTC