A snake uncoils along the centuries;

Your name slinking back to Israel.

Whispers left on the pillow

That will unfurl when the

Brownish dawn comes.


I watch the way

The snake lies.

Aware, asleep, a waking dream, waiting

For a scent on the wind.



Your skin is warming next to mine,

Thawing the crystals from your scales.

On the mattress, turning

Through white, livid joy

And coiling your tail around my arm.



Press your bite against my neck.

I will test the sharpness of your teeth.

***** my tongue.

Toxins never tasted so sweet.

flesh is nothing but a plastic cover
and if you s t r e t c h it far enough
the seams begin to rip, hovering
a guideline instead of a fence

a tongue is nothing but a stretchy strawberry
and if you cut it clean in half
the seeds disperse, swearing
to rearrange the words into normal speech

the brain is nothing but playdough
and if you let it mold
the pink uncoils, forgetting Plato
remembering nothing

the smile is nothing but a bunch of ugly mirrors
and if you rip them out by the roots
the spotlights reverse, it only gets worse
and you stare at your self-destruction for eternity.

She didn't care much
about the ruined stuffing
of the dead animal
Just the music box
exposed at its heart
like a cypher
of brass-colored keys
plinking away at itself

--a player piano* in someone's basement
to impress, entertain
less affluent
cocktail friends

Never took much
to sweep her away--

like the insides
of a music
box
resisting
curious fingers
to speed it up
or slow it down
learning how
to force
its secret
into her hand

Marveled when it skipped
at the broken pins
a minute glitch
finds holes in tune

as roll uncoils
to spring the ditty

“This girl has mechanic's ability”

Forcing mechanisms
noticing holes that catch at music
slowing  
slowing to sadden the song

Winding it up to hear  
again--
happy

Tears when it stopped

--the question
of why?
of its own accord

I enjoy the way the pink spring breeze
grazes my rouged cheeks.
Though a little chilly,
a thrift store sweatshirt squeezes
back against my body,
shielding overwhelming brisk.

Jermaine's voice trickles between my eardrums,
but I pause a moment,
words of howdy, hello,
"Oh," I breathe, "yes, I couldn't
remain inside another minute!"
The hey's and hello's,
those are the chords of C, of G,
and, strange though,
how sometimes I prefer a flat or sharp.

Some chords though harsh at first taste,
they stew on the tongue,
relinquish sweet, succulent juice at last;
sweet reward,
satisfying relief.

I feel the grin stretch, slink
across my canvas,
the reverberations of a cackle,
boisterously beating against
my far-from-hollowed chest,
for full it feels,
full it is,
filled with filling full
of warmth, light, fulfilling fulfillment.

There is merely of tiny moments
a collection,
most prized,
as if I had begun many moons ago,
knowing did I do before I knew,
gathering each grain to
make a beach,
each blade of green,
making a lawn of bluegrass,
with a sprinkle of a flower or two;
deep within self,
collecting,
gathering
to now feel stillness,
& admire that treasure.

I gaze intently ahead,
streaks of magenta, a citrusy jaune,
(yellow of course),
juicy orange,
dripping into a soft
periwinkle,
reminding me of play dates,
chocolate chip cookies,
only the special, secret recipe
on special occasions,
today, could you be one,
every day, an occasion
to taste the secret recipe,
soft chocolatey, dangerously delicious,
melting into my tongue?
This sunset,
tranquil spring night,
oh how it tastes,
smells of the endless possibilities,
special occasions.

So wise, rich with knowledge,
how the recent past has left
me
saged with experience,
yet energy & zest,
of youthfulness,
I sigh outwards,
hard;
breathe in the wonder.

Family, friends, lovers,
neighbors, coworkers, classmates,
father, mother,
sister, brother;
the world uncoils, unfolds
like watching from the outside,
yet exploding within,
I burst outward.

My mind, oh does it race,
faster I am sure than
any body could carry.
It bends, twists,
molds, sinks, festers,
bubbles,
boom, pop, trickle,
it goes.

Creating art,
that is all we do.

I hear that sweet voice,
a melody of its own,
whispering secrets of past pain
and future plans;
I hold them all dearly, as
dearly can exist.

Strum my emotions,
pluck my thoughts,
slide down my dreams,
pick my desires,
bellow my fears,
harmonize my anguish,
release the echoing,
play the notes found
in the deepest chorus,
the sounds I can make
from the beating of my own heart,
the rhythm of heavy breathing,
giving birth to a story.

Still I am writing it,
but of course,
black pen smudges against
my tiny fingertips;
Mother always did tease,
for how I hold my utensil for
words, well, "That's just like me,"
she would giggle right now,
if she were to see,
that giggle just like the one
someone loves
coming from me.

A pen to a blank page,
again I go,
in due time the world will know,
and back to me will It boomerang.

Where there was once a sense of
apprehension,
the way this slow, meticulous wind smells,
tastes,
feels as it strokes my face,
all I may now ponder
is a simple, tasty desire;

The journey, how delightful it is.

There are tunes to play, sing;
oh how there are jigs to dance.

Mouths that can open wide & scream loud, but not shrill,
toward the heavens.

Smells to create with fresh baked goods,
peaches to burst open with teeth
hungry for its, their juices.

Flowers yet to bloom,
more in the tender April 'noons ahead.

Steps to stomp on a run in new kicks.
A soft pair of lips to kiss.

Jokes to be told.
Laughs to be shared.

Lines to cross.
Fast pulses to feel.

Claps of thunder to steal the blue sky.
Silent tears to slip down cheeks
worn from years.

Philosophies to analyze.
Friends to meet, greet, make, take; bonds to create.

Games to play.
Long, strung out giggles
from little ones,
innocence so pure & poetic.

Dreams to make realities.
Loves to have, but loves too to lose.

CIties to visit.
Language to speak, share,
stutter, misunderstand,
exchange,
accomplishing dialogues,
communicating in hushed
whispers,
sweet nothings nuzzled,
brushed
against my ear.

I've got some living to do;
living with me, but also
living with you.

Your sweet fragrance uncoils around me
like a hooded cobra,
jolting my senses
& it reminds me of your own.
Yours blew me away,
& I am lost in the smell
of your delicious musk,
titillating my taste buds,
I'm still thirsting.

Short struggle to the floor, I sigh,
your wrenched fingers clamped
tightly around my pointed wrists
Your convex caps join thigh to shin
pressing mine through scorched earth
slowing seconds grab my breath
pushing further out, and drawing ever in.

Spasmodic jolts, kicks and flinches;
failed punches, rattled writhing, wriggling
under your smirking calm, this is
second nature. Third wind I strike again
with snake like prowess, your dead weight flipped
but inches. Obey or suffer, your knee rolls,
to my chest; laser precision, your other uncoils
on the blackened dirt, ash and soil.

Flat footed battering ram to my ribs
then throat, ever slower, ever heavier.
The pain goes, the knife enters:
over and over and under flesh
ripping, torn skin.

I pity not the wondering victim who trips
on my carcass. Face first, horrified glance
towards the sign that reads:
Beware trespassers, out here
nobody hears your screams.

Many are asleep. Many are awake. Some lie betwixt, straddling the waking and dreaming worlds.

Yet all is one. And all will always be one.

The myriad of tendrils extending from the superorganism of Gaia throb as one single heartbeat. This is the ancient way. A tide of lifedeath, receding and reseeding. One recent manifestation of the infinite and her ever-fecund complex of awe and beauty are a small band of lunar vamps gone rogue, renouncing the Order of Crimson Red for Opal White, death's blood for life's milk. Gaia, mother to all living things, has tended  greatly to this particular green strand of hers; She wills it forth and it obediently flourishes in response, despite the race of humans and blood vamps and their respective patriarchal death cults of never ending consumption.

Something is afoot. Wheel of time grinds to a halt. The Atman is -now- nudging man and his greed. New epoch emerges. Third eyes wide shut begin to narrow open. Beauty will again retake it's rightful place over the usurper, truth, putting it under her foot. Transformation beckons Earth, parting lips sealed, opening her up, seeding her anew till sleeping snake at sacrum bottom uncoils and slides up, up to be lit, enlightened, ecstatic, rolling milky eyes to the back of the head.

One child, two child, three child, four
Who could that be, knocking at my door?
Smoke creeping through the crack
Thick like a fog, can't find my way back.
The poison weaves its way around me
Crawling up like five leaf ivy.
*****, putrid, filthy, mean
Love how it's glowing that hypnotic green.
Their eyes are red, I know they're hooked
Can't get enough of how it looks.
Love how they smile, love how they sing
Love how their actions make my heart sting.
Dancing around me, grinning like *******
Trying to coax me with their laughter.
I refuse! I refuse! I refuse to ****!
Why don't you see you're making me choke!
Keep on whispering in my ear
Keep on ignoring that one small tear.
I swear I won't listen, I'm not going to follow
I see your face and it's hard to swallow...
You finally give up and the smoke uncoils
All of you leave; to the victor go the spoils.

The incessant calm
the roaring silence.

A mystic bell tolls its portent,
and the world uncoils like a spring
and collapses like thunder on a summer day
The shock of cold strikes my muscles,
defibrillating my comatose brain into a primal state
as I feel the water suspend me, if only for a moment

The rushing adrenaline breaks its mental dam and seizes control
My legs a motor in the tides,
my body an arrow from Apollo's bow arcing towards the crystalline surface

I break the barrier into air, it shatters like glass.
And then, I fight, clawing like a crazed animal.

The primal struggle to survive, to battle my existence
to take on the entire world...
collides with my thinking mind at once, as I shrug off the weight of breathlessness

The primal and the intelligent forcing me forward
threatening to rend my body in two!
My world inverts, and does a tipsy dance

The struggle between our dreams and our reality
Our fight and how tired we truly are
Hits me with a wall of realization

I fight on, my fury a mad race to break myself
to surpass the limits I set for myself
and truly see the world

The moment hits, a single tap on the wall an explosion that sends my body reeling
and my mind blinks and returns to its natural state
I breathe new air and clear my head,
yet search as if trying to remember the dream I just awoke from

And the world is a clutter
And the roars are silent

when you're not the only
one he runs to
any more and shares his affection with
something wild unlocks
hungry for the accustomed hug or kiss
it gnaws on you from the inside
burning along with ***** nails
insistent, pushing you to demand
his attention again

and again

when you're not the only
one he wants to ****
this uncoils a new demon
with a wilder, madder agenda
practically salivating for a brutal
sacrifice
more your sanity than flesh
it pinches your cheeks
rubs your face in it
slaps you across the ***
in a tender reminder
you will never be enough

when you are not the only

when you are not the only

you should run

root
about
you feels
how warm the
earth in)just spring

and root
deeply how
(in tightness
uncoils your love fist

totally

lilies lipped in dew
and coming morning's
health

when (root) you
singly divulge

one mute word of slender making light
and all that's quiet lives suddenly

in heaped burning

to lustfully cry:

SPR!NG

My fear dwells in the darkest abyss I've come to know.
The grand trench,
to most is known as my works basement.
From the door beyond:
perpetual darkness blinds travelers whom dare roam in it's path.
The weak fend off the presumed Krueger like critters that scurry as you flail blindly for your weapon;
The clique light bulb hanging from a rusted chain.

These cold winter nights my friends,
I fend alone.
In the battle known as:
the night shift.

I fear to scribe you I must fight the presumed creatures of the cave alone for-
I've run out of froyo lids.

This epics protagonist however fears not:
Standing a a sky scraping 5"3 draped in the finest tye dye and yoga pants that can protect me from the harshest of demonry
(Except our bleach- which is apparently made out of acid from a comic book)

Of course I'm not scared...
It's not like you can't see your own nose in the decay that room brings.

As all great ventures go I put one foot in front of the other
down the spiral case that consumes your soul,
with every step with the cold harsh evil that is presumed to dwell in the unseen.
But...
There's no abyss...
Even worse?
Light?
**** there are actual things in here

Not from the bulb I've known but of the parts restricted.

"...FUUCK"
the light crashes
Wincing as it crawls to my feet
I squeak a small "hello..."
And the dweller of the cove advances with a Cheshire grin.
"Who are You?"
He puffs keeping the imaginary lines distance.
"Me? I'm the nights tender -how did YOU get back here?"
His roughness melts to a soft cheer as he's mouth uncoils laughing
" I own the building"
Tagging along in the light
I feel my cheeks grow warm
"Haha, oh well Hey nice to meet you"
Extending the torch to the dark
Timidly grabbing back,
across boundary lines.

I wait each night for a self.
I say the mist, I say the strange
tumble of leaves, I say a motor
in the distance, but I mean
a self and a self and a self.
A small cold wind
coils and uncoils in the corner
of every room. A vagrant.
In the dream
I gather my life in bundles
and stand at the edge of a field
of snow. It is a field I know
but have never seen. It is
nowhere and always new:
What about the lives
I might have lived?
And who? And who
will be accountable
for this regret I see
no way to avoid? A core,
or a husk, I need to learn
not how to speak, but from where.
Do you understand? I say
name, but I mean a counduit
from me to me, I mean a net,
I mean an awning of stars.

by Charif Shanahan

His weapon is raised
pointing forward
still relaxed though
ready to attack even
while in retreat

His legs are coiled
bent at the knees
and keep him en garde
while his free hand
dangles freely
to maintain some
fleeting balance

Yet when he hears
"Allez!"
he sees no foe
and feels no threat
this time there is
only his own path

So he removes his mask
and looks ahead
then drops his weapon
uncoils and
begins

somewhere a boy(at last)in who darkness
uncoils
unfolds drips
down each bone
down each finger
            to each tip
            tingling
            crackles
            the teeming
            camber
            of a girl's
            waist feels
            like sweat
            tastes like tears
            wetness and molasses
            smeared mascara torn
            tights around brief ankles
            a skirt lifted and immaculate heaving cries

Fear gripped primal synapse,
a quiver of spider’s silk bunching,
rippling outwards in a cranial pond.

Anticipation surrenders shape
to the dense jungle rhythms,
but reveals little of their depths.

Breathing stifles in cautious
and irregular release -
amidst the midnight black box.

—

The bone sharp tension uncoils,
as vine and fibre come undone.
The cycle remains unbroken.

The rainbow uncoils in beauty,
making my heart sing
and eyes glow.
Uncoils,
so I may move
in gratitude
as a dancing flower with legs.
As a child of Mother Earth,
who moves as caretaker
with love.

he rakes me
sharply, softly,
    with big, sturdy hands

watching the red spread
all the way down

the sudden intensity
sets my sleepy skin ablaze
and my consciousness uncoils
in the haven of his arms...

*good morning, love.

Steel fog of messages,
televisions, white noise mists.
Metal industrial heater
burning brown coal.

Ridges of cold air snap,
press stories headlines leap.
Bush skyline winter burn,
kept in patrolled lines.

Clouds of wisps trailing,
phrases forward, reblogged.
Cars exhaust glows red,
as circle back roads.

Poetry uncoils sparks,
petrichor, instant before rain.
Fireflies dance circling,
embers bore space.

When I saw you, laying in the dead grass, my eyes glued themselves to the yellow of your hoodie, to the flower patches that adorned the back of your denim jacket, to the long strands of deep brown hair that escaped and tangled around your hidden face.

I hardly remembered that your eyes were more blue than grey, and that your nose was the prettiest part of your face.

Your voice hadn't touched my ears in a year and a half and I'm not sure what I was expecting when I looked down at your dozing face, and saw the same boy that I kissed nearly two years ago in that dim basement.

When you looked up at me from your nest in the grass, I forgot that I hated you for the better part of last year, I forgot that you pried my fingers from your heart and flung me away from you, I forgot that I had learned to unlove you.

What's funny about love is that it sticks in the ridges of your fingerprints and sews itself into your eyelashes, seeps from your pores like sweat.

It makes a home in the recesses of your lungs and the minute it's reminded that it tangled with someone else's love, it uncoils and reaches through your throat, out into the open air and towards that boy that broke it so long ago.

When we said goodbye, I said goodbye with friendliness, with a smile, a wave, a turn of the shoulder.

You said goodbye with nostalgia embedded in it, with a smile, an openness that made me flinch, with a hug that made my arms want more and more and more.

You are a familiar stranger to me, someone that my heart knows but my mind has forgotten.

When I hugged you, there was an uncomfortable adoration between us that has never escaped from our mouths to begin with.

I Posed For Matisse

He uncoils me like a skein of yarn
Paying out behind beach glass lenses
Scouring the remains of the day
For watery sifted light

His hand spry as a piper through
Twisted Hamelin streets
Spavined fingers confounded by buttons
Quick and nimble once again

Fat bolt of graphite swanning
Around an empty dance floor
To strains of a silent waltz
While my skin pools in goose flesh

Bobbin spun free, hip, *******, neck
Described in a dearth of line
God struck mute as I slip
Demurely behind the screen.

Now my window is opened,
So is my tender heart.  
Uninvited again the early
Morning breeze rushes in,
And in agony my candle flame cries out.
It bends and uncoils like we did
When we kissed the night before.
Dawn will soon come
And ****** away the darkness.
It will chase away the icy nasty nightly wind.

In seconds, clothes well ironed
And books properly read
Will be heading northwards –
7-hour drive from wild wide west
Like eternity from my new found love.
Cupid arrows deep within my veins
Pain and pleasure –
The inseparable twins of love
Are here like the August visitors.
Do they visit you too?

Last night the angry wind
Had come like a thief
Unblinking, bold and stubborn.
But it met me in you and you in me.
The fire in your beautiful tearful eyes
Brought out the man in me.
Last night, the ****** drums
In our hearts trembled, rocked
And exploded with reckless abandon
To the sweet rhythm of love.

The Winter Sun

Uncoils
Over the world
Reaching little light tentacles
Into hidden crevices,
Smoothed over the cracking bark of pine and cedar,
Kissing awake arbutus and hawthorn,

Leaving a trail that rises just as steam from hot coffee does,
A residual warmth like the palm of grandfather,
“Good morning” he softly says as he gently pats my back,
And I feel the tenderness of this love in my heart.
“Good morning” I say in a whisper
As the sun takes my breath away,
As I breathe this breath with the sun,

A breath
for the whole waking world
fills my lungs.

The Sun,
with the same curiosity as a child,
Peers into the damp forest floor,
peeking under salal bushes and fallen fir boughs,
and Springs awake
Winter’s blanket.

Perhaps I am wild to say
I wish I could remember this
moment forever,
And moments like these
Which tear me apart and bring
me back together
All at once,
Moments where I am awestruck
By the glorious beauty of this dance.

So I am wild
and bathed
In the gleaming light,
As golden dewdrops sparkle
like stars around me,
As vapour shadows rise,
and green moss beckons to be
touched by the
tendrils of sunlight.

So I surrender
Into the arms of perfect harmony,
the love of a singing forest,
as if it's the only thing
I know how to do.

And it’s as if,
for a fleeting moment,
The sun truly touches
this Earth home,
while we in turn
Stretch towards the sun,
And for just one sweet breath
we share our hearts,

Together as one.

Unsure as to why that is
it unravels itself openly
unreels, uncoils, unfolds
even spills itself further
into this shallow dish
foolishly as always
and impetuous
not careful
or measured
just emptied
out

In twilight
the sickle moon,
waits for the dark.

What a ****.
Roses in bloom
watch haying.

Halix of life
uncoils, to warm
the man.

The butterflies
shiver in sun.
Fine weather.