seldom

the horizon is papered over and semipermeable,

there are days I can swim beyond it, my eyes

breaching the thin trust, my hands are tiny fish

reaching, shivering in the dead water, stirring molecules.

words pass imperceptibly, a message rippling along threads

long since archaic, evolution doesn't preclude loss or devalue hell

.

when

a finger space, the distance floating on false
water, it is not a storm calling or a mountain falling.

the ground curves away, the road goes where it wants.

I am still counting the seconds after the flash

trying to get an idea of distance. that electric blur

of an afterimage jagged on my vision, my sight ruined

by the past. scraping across boundaries, moving

further from the remembered truth.

smudged fingerprints on a glossy photograph.

the evidence of longing. someone loved enough

to be held by more than the edge.

at what distance does a heartbeat

become irrelevant and can I count that high

.

subdural

let me not drink the soft sea
of your hair for I would willingly
drown, enveloped in the fragrant
tides, lost to the dark currents.
In stillness I flourish.


my heart is a monster
do not call to it with your sugared
words for once the bait is laid it will hunt
your wine stung lips; its hunger engorged
can only be spent in destruction.
only in deprivation can it slumber.


do not smile, I cannot bare the light,
but I would wallow in the pale moon
of your skin. the pitch pots filthy spew hide
the black holes of my eyes but can never disguise
what my hands want. feel your way inside of me



.

mercy

the wolves cry love, that misguided
knife that cuts at the boundaries of sense;
with fear that runs up your back and
longing to move beyond comfort.


it is love that pierces the throat
of the winter starved doe, lost to the dream
of the first green. collapsing into the warm
spring of her blood, the final music of winter a long
ribbon of snow scraping over snow, the breath
of hope free at last outside the intersection of desires.

subsiding

the place where we will always be together is

rancid in despair. You can beat me

as long as there is no forgiveness;

it is a narrow spectrum.

in the the dream two snakes twist their arms desperate

to hold the laughter; it was me who was left with the weight.

I have been beautiful in the slowly

sliding scars of a glacier, that golden breath

held somewhere in the moraine.

it is a long walk

.