Poetry
-
While everyone watches,as others desert,we are fewestto see what remainsinside two pairs of broken hands,sifting through remainsof burned photographs. Living in each other’s breath,living for the momentwhen we will be buried alive,mistaken for further death, though we are eternalin the pain that keeps eyes open, aware of our truthwith our noose coming loose. I know…
-
You’re there, laying onclouds made of your restless rest,thrashing in uncoverednightmarish hue, while letters are writtenas stains, in your heart. Another pitfall,another ruined night,running with the collective –driving yourself throughthe madding crowd, finding a torchto set your mind aflame, finding a churchto bring unholy tears. Who gets to knowwho you pray to,wanting for salvationin your…
-
If hope can keep uspretending to be present,seeing nothing but gravitytaking leaves down,crumbling our walls –those that have been builton muddied, bloodied ground, I will, too, pretend to sleep,hearing our hearts when they weep. Coming down, inside our graves.Crawling around, like earthworms.Being naked, while fightingagainst infinite turns, as we thrash in this placewhere we have…
-
She’s used to leavingrainfall, behind. Where there arefootprints, retained at whatkept anyone, going – she would solidifynothing, while everythingkept itself moving. She’s used to seeingdestruction, disease, andall that we never were,inside her. A heart that feels bliss,at the red behind a kiss, one that none of us received,while drawn open curtains exposedthose misunderstood remedies,those that…
-
Keeping here,painted in smears,letting goof teardrops from a moonwhose face is that of a silver trace,whose presence waitsfor another night, seeing me, unanswered. Broken song.A wail from a throat,and in the reiterating of speech, I repeat what I thoughtwas never said, was never repeated, was never saidwhen we were never wed. It was said,a long…
-
Another night in relivingthis squall. Forming tears,to hurl, overboard,as I am warmingmy wounds on the fireof what stings in your absence. A pencil has tracedyou, in the looming clouds,having grayed on your leaving.I have kept what wordswould receive you,would let you come blooming,but you would not, as I am here,forming tears from empty air. No…
-
Red winebrought forth,from a pair of raised hands,to a set of aged, dried lips.Your stare never erasedits point, of no returnof what keeps me releasingtime, into your palms, the grasp where grainsare counted, recounted,like dropletsfrom a barren sky. I retain nothingat the slightest glimpseof what was left,drawn in imperfect circles.All that is leftis a withered…
-
We were, under these trees,remembering. What were we doing,listening to thudding memories? To thoughts, being buriedin chests, under earth,underfoot, and lostin the undertowof a river that keeps usmoving backwards. We drive ourselves upstream,pledging our naked eyes upon kisses,smooth with the sandswhere we once traced our names,like promises onto immaculatedisplays of white. Lovers, in sight,within their…
-
Who knewwhile our ends met,that the journey would catch ablaze,that the suns were set,that, upon our pain,we would never be fazed? We still tookto cast ourselves off,like fishes who gained their freedom,but we were still on hooks.We were stillhoping – being behind curtains,behind the shieldthat kept us stilled,for unmentioned seconds, within gnarled arms,among histories that…
-
Being one, with deceit,a formal kind of forfeiture,cradling a weight, above my laplike a cherished infant,letting mildew growon the tearstained curtains –those I never dried,from desperate years. Forgetting the reasonhe grew up, designing himselfto die in an embrace,long as the universe,though confined to a void. Embracing the phaseof a moon, of a lifethat doesn’t aim…
-
Who goes,there? Who reenters?Where? Are you there,hearing me mourn,noticing me wilt,stuck on my thorns? I am reusingmy familiar tragedy,holding my headin helpless hands. I reach for eternityto bring back the void,tugging on dark threads,as love’s famed sicknessplays dirges for the dead. Burning. In these waters,I am drowning upon sights,letting winter disguise mein harrowing white, because…
-
Like exhumed flamefrom some unseen heart,we fell, reveling ineverything we took from the startof those bridges. To them, we raised themas crippled children,lost in their minds.Lost, though refinedin where they danced,eager to be loston some amusing path, serenading their wickednesson the path’s own twist. You were brought hereto speak for what we lost.We were made,…
Modern Romanticism 