Writing
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To messages sent out, for mailboxesfrom hands that tremble underturbulent clouds, in these thunderous,embittered moments when wehad been clinging to each other’s throats,while hovering above each other’s vacancyin a carved-out spot among earth,tortured only with roses. Though I hold your body close,you are never deep withinwhile I am hearing your heartbeatstill too faint, still far…
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Without another way back, drifting onsurrendering clouds, you fall backin Heaven’s disguises – disguising hope,dragging you down from eternity’s rope. Where leaves are falling from your mouth,bandages loosening from your throat,I am kissing dreams back into nightmare,to leave you a familiar trail. Backtrack all those empires you fell,from those slaves who did buildwhat your eyes…
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Burn the taste of us awaydown your engulfed throat,while fate can be realigneda different waythan whatever we realizedwas the right wayto keep forever our day. While your terminal eyes are thereto keep me cold, to keep meforever old, let me hold hopelike a book set aflame,like a pair of curtainsclosed if only to blamethose it…
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To those stirrings looking across froma space between your vacant eyes, I see what you have done, as Icompare where you have come from,with losing sides becoming unified,before the entire arrangement is realized as a glance’s entryfrom two stories never closed,while you try to go, following fromwhere Heaven never knows. I burn your bandages, trace…
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Dream your world,awake. All those every-days,wishing a past sunwould reopen. I am hereto hold your beating heart,close your lipsin those shuddering breaths,bless you withanother who has comecrawling into your desertion. A world that left youchiming on some distant tree,passing your wordsinto fog. When you hear me,see us both hanging,if I cannot release you. If nothing…
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Bold nights. Centered frights.I wake to find youless than a note awayon a scale of burningsheet music. To shadows, that escapewith greater speedthan fading sunlight. You will be morphedwith all your sunset curves. You will be more distant,than when you dimmed. You will be blackenedat connections of heat,becoming furtherthan stagnant distance. Fires extinguishat a bottle…
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Broken sounds.Rediscovered signals.This path is guidedwithin each of your breaths. I draw lines,getting erasedat the last of your heartbeats,leaving me with a rhythmI cannot ignorewhen it is youI abhor. I was closeto a corpse who breathed,someone who hoarded fleshupon everyone’s death,everyone who sheever wept foras they bled upona naked floor. Those rhythms, sounds,broken like ground…
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I’ll hopebefore another riverI can kneel before,presenting a circle of gold,returned from an era that cold. This river flowsbeneath an immaculatecovering of white.Another place, to tracethis name of mine,for another chance for fame,within another heart in time. Down that path,I’ll go. I’ll no more wanderwith breath among snow.I’ll melt this scenery,if to see a distinguished…
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After we felt enoughto clog our eyes, to coverour skies withour shielding palms – we pull over these sheets.Closing a chapter,believing in nothing more,like birds of clipped wings. Like children without bread,to soon become anotherfor numerous dead.Like those helpless without answers,praying to a vast canvas,to watch God paint colorsdrenched like gleaming sicknessat their nailed feet.…
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Long notes. Senseless promises.We are a year too old,folding our scars in each other’s arms.A sunset, left upon lipsthat are dried in an absenceof what time had skipped.All those letters. Every tearwe dig up, we hand backlike feathers to a naked bird. Lost trail. Swayed eyesto another path outside ofeverything we cried after.Once to present…
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All those thornsdig deep, like shardsof reflectionsin an eternal hourglass.Someone’s lovewas once trappedin these blissful stainserupting from a church’s waters,in windows that were replicasof former erosions,of smoothness to palmspierced with nails for portraits,pierced with teeththat leave marks. Pureness in sickness,while life weeps in its defeat,fallen into armsthat keep a child silent.This love, leaking out froma…
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I came here to repeat wordsfrom a voice that tells its soulful song,from a muted bird. I came hereto see what will nevercome back to me.Like springtime jealousiesmourning over lossesof unshaped emptiness,of a white canvas,of a tabula rasa gifting opportunityfor all enslaved colors. You are a body’s lengthburied, in soil, unevenwith the heartbeat of mine…
Modern Romanticism 