"perhapses" poems
O prim harrow/
******* gomorrah/slashed fists-
raised eyes/joy conjured as alchemic kiss of wood/machine
I am the child's unfastened bow
The diamond bible lay in a meadow formed
with fragility
(frame of mind as honey & cream & Ubud in June/do not suffer for the Monarch is nearly free from its own funeral, repeating)
Pygmalion & worshipper
Iris ribbon/expander/deceiver
Midnight smoking in backdrop of Lalibela
Lalibela Opus
Your thigh burned with Mystic sand
your past of perhapses & sitting on the
flashing rug
where we listened to flowers speak the Animal language
roots imitate Atlas grasping at our lungs our earth/
the wrath of flesh
like a youthful mirror
I escape the pavement,
you fold the Sun into Origami
swallowing it/a bird in it's irrational nest
(I enshrine you with skylines)
we try at last
for a place of eternal windmills &
baskets which
entomb the ocean I
tilled for our drowning
May 26, 2017
May 26, 2017 at 9:05 PM UTC
those imagined what-ifs
the safe-perfect-nevers
I keep in my heart in a closed-door-box with no
key and no hinges
desiccated and shriveled
but every so often I'll let in the sun
just enough hope to keep them alive
forever those pretty-perhapses
will stay in their box
but it is they who hold me prisoner
their wrinkled-bone-fingers
twined round my throat
reminding me always everything and forever
are the stuff of fairy tales
and if this is a story
it's not one of those
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
he made me feel like an extra
love wasn't in the cards- it was a possible
by-product because people always wish it
could thicken while lust engages all limbic
faculties
maybe my head held much more freedom than
he was used to
luckily an egregious loop wound me in its corral,
intimidating with what awful perhapses could
transpire
black paint all washed into covers, t-shirts,
white lingerie
even a list fixed of my mother's heaviest hues;
muddled, mindless file, to have with unsolicited taking-
like anyone ever looked anyway!
I am superfluous
-c.j.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 11:57 PM UTC
maybe i don't tell you how scared i am of hurting. maybe i want you to know anyways. maybe i keep quiet even though my mind screams wild like the summer sun. maybe i wish that someone knew me well enough to know when my mind burns, and that you never throw water on a grease fire unless you want me to explode.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 6:09 PM UTC