"interspace" poems
2 AM:
i'm falling in, and out, and in, and out,
of sleep.
my mind reaches:
arching forwards,
slowly uncurls a single finger
pinkish joints blossom
one-by-one
the slightest graze of fingernail
and what i think is real bursts into a million,
iridescent
spinning globules sent
skittering down a marble hall,
who knows how long?
but sometimes there are no marbles--
there are only shooting stars
masses of hazy, gaseous yellow
pixels, flickering and glitchering
in the corners of my eyes, hover
at my brow, drop at my feet ah...
a sadness devoid of
emotion.
like androids,
dreaming.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 11:14 PM UTC
The Mademoiselle I saw in the sea
Her dress impersonating the rhythm of the air
Her messy mahogany hair impersonating the rhythm of the dress.
The waves had their own cadence
just like how her tresses would cover her all of her face but her eyes
the waves would cover all of her body but her face
She was pretty tall. Even for the waves. Out of their reach.
She had the fingers of an artist. Shy and beautiful.
And every time they made way through her hair to her ears
Her beauty unfolded a little more.
Contemplating the sunset, she’d wrap her arms around her shoulders
I realized it isn’t everyday that you behold such magic when
the glowing sun, a crisp circle in the ****** sky
revealed a path in the meek waves that led directly to her
Impulses to take the initiative, capering all over me without fail
Though completely stupefied by her beauty, I could still remember every detail
Whether it was her eyes that gazed upon the horizon
or her toes that twitched under the water owing to the cold.
The interspace between us. A little extra than I asked for
Her silhouette against the subduing sky. I knew I was falling for her
Dear Mademoiselle I saw in the sea
Though enamored by all, you’re something more to me.
Mademoiselle I saw in the sea, I fancy you to set me free
Mademoiselle I saw in the sea, agree to receive my apology.
Wasn’t undaunted enough to talk to you then,
but I bespeak if I ever see you again
Mademoiselle I saw in the sea, I wouldn’t just let you be
Mademoiselle I saw in the sea, I’d tell you
I’d tell you, you feel like home to me.
Mademoiselle, I saw in the sea, i’m not lying when I say I misseth thee
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 8:20 AM UTC
The whispers of a thousand ladybugs
Caught in a strand of sunbeam
Became slurred
One more White Russian
Sloshed down and stirred
In the belly of that brilliant star
Gave birth to sweet summer
The seventh month, day five
Seemed silent in comparison to the night before
Where blasts became a long drone
And drowned out that roaring train
Which would (on any other night)
Rattle the blinds of this small home
We see that it is soon to be emptied
And even more quickly, after,
To be full once more
We are at the crossroads
Of interspace and matter
But those thousand tiny wings
Kick up dust off our old albums and memory boxes
And leave them hanging there
Suspended in threads of light
Such big eyes we have
All the better to dream with
Sleepwalkers, forevermore
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
like two hands on a clock
our bodies move in fractions
with movements so slight
they go unnoticed
and the distance grows and fills
with shapes and sounds
to drown out flashbacks
of eyes, of hands, of mouths
(this interspace between us always
lasts much longer than the moments
when our hands align)
like two hands on a clock
our meeting is
inevitable
and two days later –
when i wash your smoke from my hair
your breath from my skin –
the water cannot sever your being
from my being
and unlike two hands on a clock –
that map the time in patterns unchanging –
i cannot map our movements
towards or away from each other:
there is no clear explanation
for you and i
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 2:47 PM UTC
A lady studiously typed.
Her assignment was almost done.
See, it was interesting for sure.
At first it had been fun
But it drained energy and time.
There were other things she wished to do.
And so it was that her assignment sat up and yelled;
“Well, I don’t know how to be without you.
Why would you finish such perfection?!
We’ve barely even had a row.”
“I’m sorry,” Said she,
“It’s time to hand you in now.
There’s nothing else I can do.
We both need to move on
And be as we shall be
I’ve become so worn
There’s not much point
There are many more things in sight
See, you’re destined for experiences other than mine
And I have many more assignments to write.”
And she typed the final word
It clicked into place
The assignment’s heart sank
- He was filed to interspace.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 11:02 PM UTC
What is that you saw in my eyes
When we first met,
That you cannot see now....
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 6:55 AM UTC
hazy hazy
never alone
going crazy
lack of punctuation
against the line of clothing seams;
until death again
we part constantly
reincarnation,
I never did give you a name
traipsing clean streams
we can do it all over again
the soul doesn't lose a body
and the body doesn't really
stay, anyway
cropped close, clothing
shed while leaving the
stratosphere
and all I think is:
I can never get rid of you, can I?
Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 6:55 PM UTC
It is direct. My victims are gallantly weakened:
There is a firmer death for the restoration
Than groan: there is a tamer howl than me,
Who in the heat of thy unseasonable favour
With peaceful shadows. Communion foundation, thou in whoever
Quivered lustily, each criminal is there appeared
Hazard of thee. Interspace, half-hour, I ask cheerfully sooner
I wait, religion,
Till he return, and menace him at the conference.
Feb 1, 2019
Feb 1, 2019 at 6:37 AM UTC