"unclenched" poems
These hands have clawed with blind eyes
Chipped nails on fingers working on knots and ties
Fingers that recklessly point to reproaches and blames
Never to self, righteousness through arrogant claims
Now aware, these palms have covered my face in contempt
For they've partook in activities; indulgent and unkempt
Rubbed skin raw on life's coarse sandpaper
Ever searching for the coming of the unanticipated saviour
Broken flesh hopeful for newly formed skin
Like tattered souls pleading for absolution of sin
Only skin deep but unfavourable experiences do fester
Expecting the proverbial infection to blow over
Here they are, held unclenched and riddled with pocks
Weathered and sore from time's infinite mocks
Maybe thereafter, will be awaited healing
Perhaps soon after, I will be forgiving
See now... Hands faced up, parted as halves
Asking not for alms but instead your acceptance as salve
Take into yours, these knackered, gnarled up palms
Let your porcelain-like touch relieve like life reforming balm
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
1.
Should'st thou, in grip of dread disease,
Foresee the day when thou must die,
With no more hope of life or ease,
But only, lingering, to lie
While torturing hours go slowly by;
Thy brain awake, thy nerves alive
To thine extremest agony,
And all in vain to rave or strive: —
O my beloved, if this should be,
Call me — and I will set thee free.
2.
****** And thou to judgment hurled —
Cut off from some few days of grace —
Thus will it be to that hard world
Which fits one law to every case,
And dooms all rebels to disgrace.
But to us twain, who stand above
Conventioned rules, unbound, unclassed,
A solemn sacrament of love,
More true than kisses in the past —
Love's costliest tribute, and the last.
3.
Thy grateful hand, unclenched, shall seek
The hand that gave thee thy release;
Thy darkening eyes shall dumbly speak
Of scorching pangs that sink and cease —
Of anguish drowned in rest and peace.
And I that terrible farewell,
Despairing but content, shall take,
Knowing that I have served thee well —
I, that would dare the rack and stake,
The flames of hell, for thy dear sake.
4.
The law may hang me for my crime,
Just or unjust, I'll not complain.
'Twere better than to live my time
Bereaved and broken, and to wane,
Slow inch by inch, in useless pain;
Alone, unhelped, uncomforted,
In mine own last extremity;
No faithful lover by my bed
To do what thou would'st do for me.
And I shall want to die with thee.
2.9k
A collaboration between Elisa Maria Argiro and SG Holter.
Dear feather. You fell on my heart.
I keep you on my person now; pocket held;
An eternal companion.
As beautiful as you, I remind my
Thoughts to be.
I wake up as Buddha every day.
Peace is the corner stone of my breathing.
Dear Last Crescent Moon,
adorning Lord Shiva's brow,
smiling toward Morning Star
enjoying her sweet presence
in clearest predawn light.
She smiles too, drifting into feathery sleep.
Birdless flight, unclenched, un-
Clung to.
With this dew drop in my palm
I need no ocean to swim in.
How can Life's castle, with its wars and
Tragedies, hide within its
Towers of
Noise such quiet chambers?
Paper sails, bamboo, emerald waters.
Single feathers rest even when
Airborne.
From your outstretched palm,
sweet taste of morning touches
my tongue, oceanic dew drop
sharing itself across floating time.
An offering holding the last shining
starlight of this new morning. Drifting
now through limitless space,
finding words in our common language
on your yellow paper sails, we gaze down
from these towers of our ancient dreams,
emerald water below us waiting to catch
the falling feather.
Dear insight.
Light as the wind itself, you
Floated; fell on my heart.
Merged with heavy memories
Like paper balloons rising;
Tsunami of kamifusen
Render my whole being
Weightless.
Third-Eye-Hindsight sees me
Remembering nothing with
Bitterness.
One or a hundred lifetimes
Wandering.
Finally now,
Even waking hours feel like
Dreaming.
Dear Wisdom, Guardian Planet,
Buddha's radiance shining.
Thousand-Petaled Lotus
is now your own effulgent mind.
Smiling, eyes closed, feeling the
glowing kamifusen of magenta,
scarlet, turquoise, and yellow
floating above us,
we swim so deeply, diving down
into these warm emerald waters,
winking at the luminous fishes
dreaming all around us.
Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 2:31 PM UTC
There was a saviour
Rarer than radium,
Commoner than water, crueller than truth;
Children kept from the sun
Assembled at his tongue
To hear the golden note turn in a groove,
Prisoners of wishes locked their eyes
In the jails and studies of his keyless smiles.
The voice of children says
From a lost wilderness
There was calm to be done in his safe unrest,
When hindering man hurt
Man, animal, or bird
We hid our fears in that murdering breath,
Silence, silence to do, when earth grew loud,
In lairs and asylums of the tremendous shout.
There was glory to hear
In the churches of his tears,
Under his downy arm you sighed as he struck,
O you who could not cry
On to the ground when a man died
Put a tear for joy in the unearthly flood
And laid your cheek against a cloud-formed shell:
Now in the dark there is only yourself and myself.
Two proud, blacked brothers cry,
Winter-locked side by side,
To this inhospitable hollow year,
O we who could not stir
One lean sigh when we heard
Greed on man beating near and fire neighbour
But wailed and nested in the sky-blue wall
Now break a giant tear for the little known fall,
For the drooping of homes
That did not nurse our bones,
Brave deaths of only ones but never found,
Now see, alone in us,
Our own true strangers' dust
Ride through the doors of our unentered house.
Exiled in us we arouse the soft,
Unclenched, armless, silk and rough love that breaks all rocks.
2.6k
Airports are filled with lonely people longing for their long distance lover, business men traveling for work, and wanderlust travel.
The last time I picked someone up from the airport he didn’t know how much inside me I needed to unravel.
And I didn’t know the emotional baggage he had brought along.
At first it was lovely, it was everything I wanted and more…feeling love, and sleeping next to someone who accepted me even when I was wrong.
Then, it got ugly, we started fighting and screaming at each other,
I started drinking heavily to numb myself one after another.
One night he told me to hit him, and I unclenched all the madness inside of me, emotionally I was bleeding out.
He still stayed and reminded me every day that I was okay, I was safe, and explained the things I knew nothing about.
That was then and this is now, I see airports and become sick to my stomach feeling devastation.
I hate how all of it feels, and it feels like the extra luggage you don’t need on vacation.
It’s like I was dreaming the whole time and sometimes I want to reach out.
We knew each other like the back of our hands, he made my heart dance but now I can’t stand in crowds at the airport because I drown in my feelings.
Jul 2, 2021
Jul 2, 2021 at 12:08 AM UTC
Your eyes resembled the troubled waters at sea,
always shimmering, churning, crashing, always making me wonder if you had sky blue galaxies trapped inside of you.
And your smile always looked as if it had been carved into your face with the same instrument used to make those marks on your arms.
I found comfort in your sadness, because that was the only time you were true to yourself.
I found comfort in your freedom. I always loved seeing you live carelessly, daringly. Insubordinate to anyone who tried to stop you.
Sometimes it worried me to see you scratch your skin after you cursed about destroying everything you touched.
Sometimes it worried me to see you lose yourself among the empty bottles of alcohol.
You were burdened with a heavy heart, and like the pupils in your eyes and the emotion in your smile and the sound of your laugh, it was vacant.
And all I could say was, maybe, just maybe, if you unclenched your fists you would've found that you were holding onto nothing.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 3:05 AM UTC
fingers
of a fountain
clenched
unclenched
pointing
to heaven
without understanding
lips
false as a beach
damp
a pearl on the lip
dampened
the blackness of a tear
falling
the memory dies
slowly
a plate
held before each face
saying who am i
the moon
(fresh feet
in sawdust
rust before
noon)
the moon after all
2k
A Stirring biomass, a grim river
Garrotted by mud and each rusted carcass
Dumped over the slow years -
'And we saw the metal of a woman,
A frothy corruption, naked and open,
we prised her from the mire, and saw the city
through the eyes of the sewer,'
The Lady from sludge,
your toady skin broke
as you flopped, nymph-like on board
Caved-in by the tumbling sky,
And air like leather. Dry in the throat.
The sweating walls spun his head,
And the cogs whirred to fast
To bite back. Space and time-blind,
He turns to the sepia city.
Like new life,
ready for the fall of man.
Through the river of time elapsed,
Churning up memory.
And there's the glitz, the cracking lips.
that bet on goodness.
'I remember being a girl - and my mother -
smiling but never sad -
I waited for her every morning'.
The forgotten root scratches out life
Underneath vast and forgotten hangers.
The lungs of the city shed their skin
To keep pace with the smog.
See what we all don't know.
And live where we all can't see.
He led her to a room with broken windows
and one swinging bulb,
She wasn't scared.
Dank Amazon.
the roots are wires,
sprawling for grip for the sulking trees
In the great ape eco-system
'I'm a cruel joke, don't you see?'
As her eyes slowly rolled.
'I'm sorry'
As her fists unclenched
'Im Sorry'
As her knees went limp
'I'm Sorry'
Belted by un-silent night
And below gridlocks of light
An I.C.1 male is being chased
By screaming vans, run rabbit
Down the hole and off you go.
And the hiss of 'one eight seven,
one eight seven' from the radio,
is scoring his run - as the pools on the floor,
neon-flashed burst open
in a booted shatter.
'And the time went by,
And I looked at your form
And I looked at your cuts
And you are the river
And one of its secrets, un-watered'.
Jan 21, 2013
Jan 21, 2013 at 9:18 AM UTC
butterflies love the blood,
tumbling about in bellies,
whisk it away, the way we pray,
a bird being carried by a breeze,
lifted essence, manifested,
heart shade, finally, at ease,
signal came through,
translated to
sharpened claws,
unclenched jaws -
unthought it all while sober -
*you came as ocean, as breeze,
as birds, as leaves,
as hues and blues,
sunshines and moons,
and you left as you pleased,
opened my mouth wide to cry for you,
praise you,
love you, raise you above
what I've said in silence,
unbreak the trust I betrayed in private,
you came as hearts, as people I've known,
and stories never told, as whispers,
as hugs, and as kisses,
as melodies, repeatedly on my brain, as so,
absent of you,
I came to know you:*
butterflies love the blood,
dying slowly from the greed,
whisk it away, the way I pray,
would ask for your forgiveness,
but I know there is no need,
I feel you in the leaps
of knowing when to regret,
and when to let it be,
summon the tides stronger
aside dying suns, each day,
each night I pray for you to call upon me,
like you did when I was your favourite color,
pray for you to love the me now, and be sure of no other,
so if I adjust the pitch,
tune the sounds to form around
your wisdom, or pretty eyes,
maybe the melody will reach you again,
if not for love,
lost at sea,
then for truth,
and maybe friends we'll be,
no longer eclipsed by rumors
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
Enough said.
You don't say
That one day
We could just start again.
And
There's a chance
Our jaws could be unclenched
A hope for unraveling.
You don't say
Hope counts for nothing
Because it does.
But
We can't say
Because everyone knows
And no one can live if its not off of lies.
I can't say
Everything will be alright.
Why don't you tell me?
Save a breath
Skip a step
Knowledge of the truth hasn't brought us very far
Before.
So bet on broken knees and ****** jeans
It's a death march to the beginning.
Now
Run backwards after falling
And see what comes.
Stand behind this white line
Stare at the pavement
And believe.
They already left you behind.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 10:40 PM UTC
Catapulted...
Over the moon.
Counted stars
as I hurtled through time and space.
I had tasted the sweetness.
The spellbinding grasp of weightlessness
as I crested upon the peak of my ascent.
Felt free and overwhelmed that moment
where the universe and I collided...
And birthed the second.
I only had that second.
*The second that spanned an eternity.
The second filled with abundant promise.
The second that unclenched my fist,
melted my heart,
and liberated my mind.*
But gravity takes control
and that second dissolves as
quickly as it came.
Reality beckons almost gentle...
Like swaying palms in the night sea breeze.
Assuring me that I'll be back in my rightful place.
In this time...
And this space...
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 11:19 AM UTC
Liar.
Theif.
Villain.
STOP
Open your eyes for one in your life and realize that you are not perfect.
That by declaring such hurtful things, you are welcoming hypocracy with open arms.
You are armed with hatred and feed chaos that which you spent months saving from the gallows.
Step out of the shadows when you glance in the mirror to see yourself as others do.
Prove that there is still something worth seeing rather than inflicting
That worthless feeling on everyone you meet.
Liar.
Theif.
Villain.
I KNOW
I'm not alright.
I never claimed to say I was or am or will become
After you've unclenched your hands from ringing me dry of love and beating me senseless.
Now, step back and look at the mess you've left with destruction and pain
For each life you've touched.
Liar.
Theif.
Villain.
LISTEN
Cease building your walls of defense up higher than your line of sight
And see that you are alone.
No one waits to hear your shouts and calls through the empty halls of the maze
You've trapped yourself within.
All that remains is the whisper of your own song,
Echoing back at you.
Villain
Liar
Theif
Apr 17, 2012
Apr 17, 2012 at 5:09 PM UTC
Some days you hold a bed of roses as only a state of mind
Promises seem to be forgotten in drifting pieces
Wondering how absence thinks of ways to make fonder
A heart that watches time burning bridges
With faith that never ceases
So often an eager crowd serves a master of lonely places
You can hear them whispering words of praise
They are swirling in a powerful roundabout of illusion
Spent in rooms where the only way out
Cannot be paraphrased
Some have chosen their scars as seed to plant in rows
Then wonder why their fields are full of pain
Aside from sorrow can you imagine what could dwell
As rows of beautiful flowers in the heart
Where love remains
We hear I am sorry in a moment that passes forgotten
On days when a bed of roses does not exist
Should we choose to serve a master of lonely places
Or plant seeds of forgiveness in our fields
From unclenched fists
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 8:49 AM UTC
The little boy unclenched
his sticky fist,
freeing his blue balloon
into the wide open sky.
"If you can fly,
then I shouldn't stop you,"
he said to the balloon
as it floated
out
of
sight.
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
Breath evaporates, vision clouds -
I drift, it is peaceful in the deep
I no longer feel like a burden; lumbering and pathetic
My hands are soft,
my thighs milky and unclenched
my lips barely touched
Insomnia envelops me once more and I awake:
this body is not ready
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
Mother Nature is a nihilist sitting with friends
Around a poker table in the dew drop inn
Playing Nasty Canasta and the loser draws a limb
On a voodoo hangman, the cut of her kin
The high-wire committee say she’s way out of line
So they’ve sent in a crack-team of their most earnest faces
To blow 40 shades of blue, red and lime
From the very corridors our Mother paces
She croaks through the smoke “the first sons a novelty
The rest are just relics of muscles unclenched
Too smart for their own good and that doesn’t bother-me
But the reaper is hungry and hustling for rent”
Lackeys line the lawn, flunkies on fleek
To cover the crack of her chunky cheeks
“To stake lives may well seem immoral and bleak
But to play for cash prize seems horribly cheap
For a Lady of her esteem”
But the crowd spoke, she hung up the wardens trunchbull
Left the skeleton key within reach of the cells
“They’ve aired their opinions and I’ve had a cunt-full
Let the hungry ******** impeach themselves
I’m sitting this one out”
“And I’ll hide, while my dead snake wriggle persists,
On Elba with hairy pits, freckled wrists,
Openly practicing romanticists
And other hapless things that can’t exist
In these times”
Every second Sunday, the search resumes-led
By a dawn-chorus of confetti festooned-plebs
She can dance the devils limbo cos she’ll not be presumed-dead
While we’ve Holy Grail Package Holi-vows to renew-said
The green eyed usher on the door
The newsstand screams “Mother Nature was a fascist
Sher natural selection was the **** manifesto”
And they’re pedalling placebo to the shell-shocked masses
While the editor shoehorns a scotch into his amaretto
Yeah the world has been orphaned and the orphans smothered
But go easy on her sordid soul cos that’s our mother, after all
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 6:26 PM UTC
I think my problem, in relation to last year’s writer’s block, is that I wish to write about me, and I wish to write about the world, and I’ve been waiting all this time for these things to extend beyond you. It’s as if I had been waiting for this poignant moment where someone—anyone— would announce that my life could begin again, as if continuity would seamlessly occur once the halt in time had pursued for long enough.
What a shock it would be to discover that the world waits.
(It doesn’t.)
In this time, I cut my hair and I let it grow. I looked in the mirror, hair falling halfway down my back like velvet drapes, keeping the sun out of my space and solitude, and I felt the power slipping away from my body. I knew that I needed to find a way to hold on to this power, one that was rooted in my own flesh and my own vision rather than yours.
(I did.)
I don’t get as lonely when I see crowds or busy streets or lights that remind me of you, drunk and obscene — laughing with your head thrown back, eyes glimmering like the Vegas strip. We slipped into an intimacy that, in retrospect, was simply me having a first-time love affair with myself. No hands were strange hands up until this point— no hands except my own. Trembling against my collar bone, realizing that what you gave to me was a home to live in. I look up. No ceilings, no roof, just space. The wars, they’re far away from here. I look up, find my power. It’s been here all along.
Resting in the unclenched fist, in the phone that remains unplugged on the bedside table. My power is in the hand that brushes the inside of my thigh, my power is in forgetting how to say I’m sorry when I’m less than quiet, when I forget how to bite my tongue. I keep looking up.
Blissful starry skies,
Atomic wasteland,
Wonder and boredom live side-by-side.
I am in you. You, in me. Open those velvet drapes you used to hide behind, child-like, curious but afraid of your own flesh, of your hot temperament.
The Sun goddess is rising in the East, raining on the wild seeds of May. I, body of water, offer myself to a new seed, grow like the deciduous plants of the Northern world, a whole forest dizzy from bliss and impermanence.
Thank you for visiting.
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 4:43 PM UTC
The man with the plastic face
He has cloudy, liquid eyes
His fibre moustache and the thick dense fog
Strengthen his disguise
As he stops to check the time
His circuits start to glow
Then a figure comes to greet him
With a face he used to know
It's a face in a leather case
It's a face he used to own
It's a face that moved through time and space
And now he's come to take it home
There was a subtle smell of sulphur
As he made time stand still
He unclenched his plastic hand
To expose a yellow pill
Then his sub processor skipped
To where it all began
To a time before his micro chips
When he was still a man
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 3:41 PM UTC
I've spent half my time telling myself that you are a terrible person.
And with just a few sentences you've unlocked the chains around my heart.
The only thing keeping me from feeling what I once felt for you.
I find myself smiling, laughing
With you.
You caused me so much pain
So, so many tears.
The knots in my stomach I thought would never come unclenched.
But here I am laughing.
Betraying myself.
Breaking my own heart because it's fool me twice shame on me.
But if we're being honest, it's way past fool me twice.
More like fool me to the moon and back
Because that's the line that got me
To the moon and back
How romantic of you, to travel that far
Just for me
But we both know it was only pretty words
And the only reason you're here now is because even though we are as used to each other as the stars are the night sky,
I'm new.
We fell into the pattern of comfortable
And then we had our break
And the tears
And the silence
So the talking is new
The flirting is innocent, but oh so loaded
It's like a grenade, this fragile line we walk
One wrong word, one bold move and this pretty picture of happiness would be shattered
But I do love art
Especially the kind you and I make
The way we are together
How the tired sentences don't make sense, but neither of us will say goodnight.
Even now.
And maybe you're supposed to be there.
On my mind and in my life
Because I'm sure as hell not shaking you.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
You kiss me with your native tongue
Between sea salted breaths
Hints of starfruit and filth
Relish saintly dialects
Distant malaise clings to
Gritted teeth, unclenched
Your kaleidoscope soul
Vulnerable, drenched
Dripping liquified gold
Ornate in transcendental air
Upstaging whatever gods
May reside up there
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
The frozen river,
Grey mist and cold air escape from little thankful lungs.
I hold your hand.
Your body walks beside me,
Our shadows blend to one.
On the outside your figure looks unscathed,
Your face is bare and clean, your eyes look out clear and blank and mild.
Your hands unclenched and loosely draped,
arms sway slightly from side to side as ballast
for the steps you take.
Broken though. Broken so very deeply.
So that every step your body takes,
you hear the sound of glass.
The ***** and jangle, the music of an utterly shattered self.
I hear you breaking, though you drown it in your headphones.
As you pass me in the street I hear the squelch of your shoes.
Soaked in your own blood so your socks are brown like mud.
And your eyes, they are unguarded as you gentley start to topple.
Vortex of pleaing pain and weighted silence.
A tornado of anguish inside your iris.
As you inhale, your scars are whiter than your teeth.
You pull me in, You want to grab me and beg for help.
For mercy, for release, for suffocation. But you have no voice,
Your tears are gushing but they don't feel wet.
You're flat, and shiny and utterly destroyed,
Beyond repair. The damage is done.
And so I release the mirror,
till our shadows blend,
and the blood is dried,
and the pieces scattered, and the shattered mirror will rest at the bottom of the river.
Only I stand on the bridge.
One body, not two.
Nothing to remind me of you.
But the shattered hole
in the frozen river,
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
tell me how it felt to
watch her put her lips on another.
tell me how it felt to
fall on your knees, and
pray to God
half sober
with the kitchen light on.
tell me how it felt to
wake up the next afternoon
with beer stains on your collar
and ash in your teeth.
tell me how it felt to
stack those bricks around your bones and fight anyone
who got too close.
tell me how it felt
when you met me;
face softened, jaw unclenched,
pulse steady.
tell me how it felt
when you let me in,
how the fires felt
burning away every piece of armor shielding your weaknesses
and you were without water
to put it out.
tell me how it felt to
let me go;
did it leave you scorched in the flesh
and heavy in the head?
my apologies,
that was me.
Copyright © 2015 Alyssa Packard
All Rights Reserved
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 9:58 PM UTC
The waves roll in on a melted sunset,
Bringing new treasures onto land,
Tropical flowers bloom in the dew sewn grass,
Palm trees sway lazily in the gentle breeze,
Summer clouds dreamily float past in a daze,
***** scuttle, claws unclenched, relaxed for once,
All your worries have washed away,
Bottled, tangled, and rolled up into the ocean blue.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
I.) Bodies of
Open lakes are naked
Their secrets,
Rub like salt.
How did one get here
What seized the labour of hands.
Do we deserve to know.
Do we deserve to know the extent.
Do we deserve to know the extent of our own subjugation.
Knees meet dry earth.
It's dry where we forget to water it
Not that it needs water,
Salt finds form
In our negligence.
Arid insincerity spoke of more.
II.) To follow
We left.
We did not need to stay
A dry sterile whisper kept us there
With it's pleas for us to leave.
The trust of invitation,
Burnt holes in our wings.
Untrust of warning,
Had us leaving without our things
I don't know which is better.
A departure announced drew heed to soft cartilage.
Unsharpened curfue split bone without piercing the skin.
The expression of self.
Callous wanderers knocked at no doors;
to accept rejection.
III.) Reintegration of being
The want of murmurs in wanton misuse
Kept us foraging for lust,
For more,
For inability in casualty.
We waited for forest to arrive,
Bare earth begged of no candour,
Trees deny script.
Unclenched hands greyed over context
As purpose gave none where some was due.
IV.) What the stars offered
A quest unrelenting bends bark in fervour.
Do we know why we left,
Cold hands hock at swords needed to keep slight wrists in check.
Or where we are going,
Our aimless pacing finds direction in blind eyes and guided hearts.
All the dust settled, buried in puddles like art.
And the thunder was there
The thunder never knelt
But we listened
To listen was the choice.
A brief connection with the sky
Through it's reproach
It implored for something more,
Only upon deaf ears.
Was earth all there was to rain on?
We thought, as the stars spat on us.
Celestial offering in cleanse not spite.
V.) Love
Maybe that's why we left.
To trascend our own ideas of love.
Innocent foliage made the path harder to see,
But easier to tread.
Gentle arches hug mounds of green
Like finger tips kissed by yonic flesh.
To remember the conception in contact,
Was to recognize our own affirmation
And any word intended for the ears of the unknown.
Blood is replaced where word is love.
VI.) Relation to self
To stay or leave was not the choice
The distance from anything was illusory.
The real choice, was acceptance of self.
After the end of our disintegration,
The dry heave,
Leaving without hesitation;
We are not without ourselves.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 8:11 PM UTC
I know when to quit.
late summer unclenched
for us, thrusts
of pixie-stick upshot,
your perfume
expands my chest,
thunderstick love,
spines and ribs
don’t do it justice
you raptured me
both ways to sunday
built me up to shatter jaws
car windows me
bar stool battered
you my perfect carpenter
smile with wooden teeth
you made them yourself
so stain me the color of
cherry trees
and unbliss my empty spine.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 10:46 PM UTC