Writing
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“A smile is a stone, made for fire. Beneath that hardened mask is a puddle, where our sorrows were held down to be drowned. We held down our tragedies beneath a weight, a stone, our false smiles, though we could not help it when the fires grew to reach others and burn them away. We…
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I wanted torekindle a futility.I gravitated northto see my reflectionin muddled waters.I wanted to knowif aurorasever vanish. Puddles.Lakes.Perfumes from an ocean. Waves for departure,upon broken outlines of loss,drawn at an endless,tortured shoreline. No one needs to know.I keep bleeding these pleas,to remake futility. A hand that got away.Two feet that dipped lowlike a bucket full…
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Tell your soulto part ways.Drift on that pathlesshighway. Go nowhere.Filter a vacant light,somewhere. Fill your spaces,your voids of where I lastedwith repeated, defeated,endless toiling. Split your gaze,fork your tongue.Let your clouds disconnect,and disguise whatyou’ll always resurrect. I know you.I know that youwill cling to thin strands,like your hair that goes grayunder adjacent monochromeof another dismal…
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I have been holdingmore of your call. More ofwhat escapes than yourbonding words.Voiceless. Transparent. You’ve surrendered.We have remembered.We are thosedroplets filtered through,for stormy highways. Condensed meaning.Hurt from hail that turnsour skin from marbleinto rust, from rustinto blanketing dust. A bridge remains. It gets rebuilt,before we ever cancollapse into shadowed arms. Holding nearby light,like a dream…
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You pencil your tearsonto aging years.Love regresses into thosepages you will undress,leaving onlyfolded covers,surrounding your vulnerable,embittered shelter. Untie yourself.Tell a shadowits wholesome farewell.Pine over that wrong light,but find your eyesturning towardsan unhindered sight. Traced in a mirror,sculpted around me. Shapes once torn apart,asymmetrical amongshed tears, shed leavesfrom hands, from branchesonce hung low. Be here. Reach…
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I wanted salience,from your outheld radiance. Leaves grow in your stretches,falling to blanket me. Less to see can beall I want, in this moment,fatal within eternity. Your used up chances,with change uponyour scattering dances. I’ll sift through bleached watersto find you in reflected clouds. I’ll hold hope in a cup,hearing spring coming up. Your autumnal…
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Poem #1 Pull your Pale Flag Wide letters.We were holding on,while recognizing.Those shapes. These marks.They have stuck like glueto these gray hauntsin the washing blue. Worded. Remembered.Burning ships that tag along.Fated noosesthat hold up bottled necks. Stored messages for the sea.Stored letters that go unseen. Who shall hear our screams?Who shall worship our stars,put out…
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Here’s those petals,scattered. Clumps of graydispersed, in surrendering clouds,hanging low. I have rainedenough lines, to dressthem with letters of scorn.Burning shapes, wornwhile rolling in thunder,on these defeated shores. Here’s our facesdisplaced in a mirror.I see where you dance.Hear you, as youare weeping from bitternesscaught as lost dropletsin a worthless bottle.Are you this blue,floating on an…
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Pain that never conveysanother second, nor a wordwhen a kiss plants itself as a seedon your time-worn lips.Holding hope uprightin deep soil,inside a forever heart, raisedlike tortured infinityagainst this limitless night. I have another secondto shelter you,in decaying arms. I label your mirror,understand your face.I see simple sights,a sickness that repeatsin a thudding heart.Carved ruby,…
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Viewing what fades.Like a pencil that redrawsan erased outline, in cobbledroadways. You fadein me, though come againin stiff, morbid memory.I want to heal these lungs,before breathing next.I hurt. I don’t bleedthis soil enoughto be red. As I neverlose enough,to be dead. You are a sunsetwho shines a savored second,before blacking out.I want to lie about…
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Carved stones. Eyes, hidden inhistory’s puddle, where weare seeing the same scenery.Listening beneath, from abovewhere rain falls from coated clouds,too cold to snow.As we are too tired to sleep,we hold on for as longas Heaven will weep. Fortresses made. Tearstains savedon those white curtains thathide our forms, within identical dust.We are sheltered from disaster,seeing stagnant…
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Funnel thoseteardrops, into this open,discarded mouth.I still misstastes of a sunrise,blooming without disguise,as we caressedstones on a rough road,stressing for finalityto release a breathwe held, and could notever use to turnour eyes, behind. Funnel history’s glancesdown insanity’s laughing throat.Pour down all your bitterness,as I remember it,as I only remember it. I realizethat you are pasta…
Modern Romanticism 