"finespun" poems
1
I’ve seen many goddesses born
but none as finespun as you, my Venus:
for if
existing were an art form, you would be the moon
enlightening me in all her silver beadwork and mystique.
2
At night, I see my beloved again
and find her body captured by the seafoam:
it’s only a reflection,
a silver phantasm dancing on the ghastly waves,
but I adore the sheen of her face in the sea.
3
I’ve seen many goddesses consumed
by the very passion that I feel for your soul:
for the moon
is only the shadow of her full being,
and yet I still drown myself in her light.
Aug 4, 2022
Aug 4, 2022 at 9:47 AM UTC
well something deeper
than the ocean here burns,
splits apart and quakes --
we've seen farther than the working
men can go--felt the emptiness of a
disillusioned life, wondered how the
masses buy away their souls,
he touches you and you feel
not a thing, just the skin beneath
his hairline that doesn't glow--
You hear about his sanguine childhood
a finespun gossamer thing,
stretched across the state of colorado,
webbed and spun around
tent stakes, campers, drawn into the Four Corners
spooled in a Chattanooga coffee mug, dipped in
day old orange juice
I have
settled
into the bottom of his
cup, a thick pulp, rind
and stem -- terrified that
I won't pull through,
that this isn't enough
that I am too much
or too little, haven't
been or seen
there are no
scars on my knees
or callouses on my hands
when the bears came I had
no pots and pans --
I study the sofrito, stir the
rice, break open green olives
and slide the pimientos onto
my tongue --
deftly speaking about shredding
chicken, chopping onions, rolling
corn tortillas
wondering what it is about people
about parents, about chile con carne
this pan holds 21
like the age, like the game, I think.
I am truly terrified.
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 12:35 PM UTC
As the murk
in the daedal
sky endured
and the
finespun
brume upon
the headland
peaks wound
all around
in a
helicoid
shape,
the fluttering
winds carried
aloft
a bouquet
of ions
that were
immured,
but still
danced about
in an undulating
figure of eight;
and when the
distent distant
cloud could
no longer
wait,
it's rain
fell upon
my
wilted form
so desolate.
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC
Magic breadcrumbs
Twinkle like stars
Giggling while hiding
Tender memoirs
Voodoo whispers
Finespun intention
Vibrating and swaying until
Magic has snuck in
Enticing while Splicing
Singing me along
Via my senses
To where I belong
Daring to be found
Anticipating you
Suspended exhalation
Timeless rendezvous
Oct 16, 2017
Oct 16, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
The fortitude
my lungs haul
ecstasy
Smoke withdrawing
In
out
Nearing
my cavity
Of cargo
So purely finespun
Presumable
Exodus of genetic
vibrancy
investing in my annihilation, currency earned
inexcusable
Nether each eye rest the mass of lost sleep
Inside
Out
Permissibly spun
I was sober yesterday
But today
I am strung
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 2:41 PM UTC
hey, lovesick child with the benevolent heart
hey, lovesick child from the pinnacled start
oh, how you’ve become such finespun art
au revoir, au revoir, to that which lays scars
but know each scar that you bear, sets you apart
oh, how you’ve become such finespun art
be well,
bcb
Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 12:19 PM UTC