"hemolymph" poems
Still a child; fragile, undefined -
trembling, timid and shy -
a body curling inwards
- petals and moonlight -
we're magnetised:
this shared desperation and
fumbling adolescent shame.
A throbbing, suffocated silence -
lost hands and strangled hysteria.
Achingly tiny,
shattered-glass bones flutter,
colliding and entangling;
causing the skin to lift
and contort. To ebb -
a fluid - a pulse.
His shoulder-blades
(the crushingly delicate shiver
of butterfly wings)
cast splintered, mosaic shadows
(sharp and electric
to trace) along
the gasping, groaning spine...
Pharate, we're demolishing ourselves
in a gorgeous, stumbling,
careless collapse -
colliding in cold frenzy, desperate
to hide - burrow - entomb --
to bury ourselves - his mesmerising flesh.
Rasping out - teeth and lip
and tongue - ravenous,
animalistic despair.
With timid breath - to rip, devour, engulf --
to hiss and **** delicious venom.
An ache - a yearning - for absorption,
for skin, for blood -
to be consumed and to consume -
to feel every pain of it -
to be wrecked - to become
the same debris.
I spill out into his shadows,
his indents, his cuts and curves -
their fervent whimpers, electrified palpitations -
and he to mine:
It's as though we're eclosing,
these golden deodorant nymphas - we're quaking through;
tearing apart every sad smother of silk - and now
desolate; forever nothing
but drifting, lambent dust.
Skin like porcelain -
cold and wrong to touch -
yet stomachs hot,
hurtling hot.
Flesh winces - ripples - under
premature pain.
("I'm sorry. I")
He crumbles, cuts
my thighs
and leaves us both with
scars that we, as scars, forever treasure;
and with veins seeping Hemolymph;
to heal, to beat, to grow.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 3:13 PM UTC
His mate snapped a picture.
I posit
He had turned up evidence
For kind sight.
As the young child curled
Index and middle finger into
The Cupped hand of
Slack-jawed wanderer;
Whispering
“The coffin is to remind them of their last end.”
He was astonished
To find the monks never
Spoke, rising at two,
and slept
in their coffins.
How bracing the air was
Down there.
I speculate
He had turned up
Evidence for
Kind sight.
We live from eight inches
Of top soil –
Containing
Earthworms,
Bacteria,
Fungi.
Lillipution lingerings
Cling
Within the gentle folds
Of carrot contorting beneath, with
probing tree roots.
As above –
Grasshopper carapace – hemolymph drunk
Probing dew-imbibed grass blade.
Life goes on,
Rhythmically and quietly
Pulsating
With the warmth of hugs
Humming - chest against chest.
In their coffins
I muse – they listen to the pulsing chamber
Echoing –
Breath drunk - on inhale
Resonating about and within
Wooden niche.
A barrier built between
Ourselves and
The principle of darkness.
The letters
in which we write about the aphotic night
sky need not be black.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 10:40 AM UTC
I was born with 12 eyes
they said it would make it easier
to see the light
but it only left me inching
in a fog
hiding from shape-shifting shadows.
So I learned to consume the dark
with my mandibles
and let it seep in to my hemolymph.
The parasitoids laid out fences
of peppermint and lavender -
trying to cage me.
But the oak tree took me in
and let me rest upon her leaves -
told me to shed my old skin.
I hung myself upside down under her branches
tried to see the world from their point of view
but there was still so little light,
and the birds were cawing
threatening to have me for breakfast.
I learned to hold myself tightly,
wrapped in imaginal discs
that liquified my dreams
into a rich soup for me to drink.
I emerged
soft and wet -
with ommatidia that see in all directions
and bear witness to invisible colors;
and with wings formed like dragon scales,
that move in the shape of infinity.
Now I feast with my feet,
feeding on nectar of Chloris
and cross continents
while they marvel at how far I have come
from the ground they tried to keep me on.
May 8, 2025
May 8, 2025 at 9:57 AM UTC
Planet Earth . Creation . The perfect storm ? Miracle encapsulation of biochemicals or delivery from the Heavens above ? Millions of cells replicating upon organic matter no larger than the head of a pin ..The origin of life itself resting beneath our own skin ? Blood of mammal , hemolymph of insect , nerve cell of amphibian , skin cell of a pig ..The heart lung blood barrier of man , capillaries in the gills of fish .. Our gift of memory , albeit a curse at times , thought of mind and creativity .. Lust for blood , consumption of flesh , dominating spirit , insensitivity . The hand that reaches for a flower , a fist driven into the face of an enemy ..Filled with love , life , intrigued with the mystery of creation one day , then hurtling over a cliff to your death the next ... Trillions of cells evolving , mutating , networking while the hallmark of life on Earth is busy de-foresting , polluting , selfishly consuming ! .......
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 6:35 PM UTC