Friday Night Features
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Swan SongI miss you
In the forgotten remembrances
Of soul-shucked searching,
In the nitty-gritty of deja-vu
In the slip of space
Between yesterday and today
Between black and grey---
I never thought you'd stay.
That layer of love
Was sliced so thin
I could almost see through it,
Breathe through the film
Of perforated longing.
I never stopped growing
And you shrank smaller and smaller
Until I could no longer wrap
Your heart around mine.
If this were the end of time
It would not matter,
But seconds march on and on
Dawn after dawn,
And the swan swims her circles
Into whirlpools of too-slowly evaporated regret.
I do not quite try to
a viatorthe snow laden boughs loom
and veil the serpentine pass.
without stint I wallow.
as I traverse the earth in shades of grey
a viator, bestowed no notice
to relinquish prosaic thoughts.
to luxuriate in the nothingness
and absence of others.
GlassAt some point,
I stopped making eye contact.
I'm not sure how it happened
or why. I'm not sure if it's
some reflection of my
latent insecurities or
undeserved superiorities or
But I am sure that
I miss the fleeting connection
on trains, buses, and sidewalks.
I miss the shape and color and
glint of golden gleam that used
to strike out across crowds at me.
My mother, my best friend, my lover -
what mysteries do I miss? What
is hidden in their second glances and
I don't know because, at some point,
I stopped making eye contact,
even with the girl in the mirror.
SpaceWords are swelling,
In the back of my throat, swirling
Under an accumulating gravity,
Projecting a muted atmosphere
Through what little lung I've left.
Now, a nebula, mispronounced,
Clatters at the back
Of my teeth--
But I lack the Time
To allow sch a void of unchained articulation
a dialogue or envy.something dangerous began:
a mirage devoid of eyes
watched you as you passed
a miserable game oscillates
the only thing understood at first
insinuate the guilt
returning to this city of ashes
Endymion, a dying prince
acquitted over and over
like slick eels, like dragons,
the shadows pass
under the steel sky
bitter frost rose in flakes
lonesome stranger in the crowd
your reflection in the glass
a silhouette or a mistake?
hesitated when asked
the worth of what's beyond value?
and give you what you deserve
for me, reassemble
your colors, to reappear:
if you become a prince
at least be fre
Driving HomeExhaustion numbs my lips
and hollows my chest.
The steering wheel floats
between my palms.
Streetlights stretch like
vertebrae, pulling me ever on.
Dead HeartsI want you to have fond memories of me,:thumb306204854:
especially, when you're with her.
It might sound selfish,
well, it is incredibly selfish--
but, at this point, I think it's only fair.
I want the joyful scent of pomegranate
to softly whisper by your nose,
and make you turn
to see if I'm standing there.
Every time you see a box of dark chocolates at the store,
I want you to consider purchasing them
until you recall that there's no one to buy them for.
When you hear on the radio
that song I tried to sing,
and failed so horribly at,
I want you to chuckle out loud.
(So she'll wonder what you're thinking.)
We went to Chinat
Camellia SkyA "v" slashing
specks of black stark
against deep red folds:
fire & blood cradle
the flock flying
toward safe harbor.
Her bare feet hang off the edge
of a gray cliff,
her brown eyes locked
on the sunset wavering
She sits there
feeling so small
why the heavens shimmer
like the gold-green ocean
Tang of salt in her nose,
burning tears in her eyes,
water crashing ringing her ears,
auburn locks whipping around
crazy halo, lost divine:
She finds solace
in beautiful chaos,
its ebb & rhythm
of life greater
than her own.
Impending BoshI am a galaxy.
My veins are
strips of universal
gases tying me
together so I
down my calves
like drops of rain
while the stars
as their glow
keeps me awake.
across my skin,
covering my belly,
and ankles in
rock and dust.
I do not know
how long I will be here
for you see, there
is a black hole
just below my hip
and I can already
feel it eroding
my Milky Way bones.
So hold tight dear,
stay under these sheets,
under my cosmos
just a little longer.
I am a galaxy,
but we do not live
pornographyYou unclothed me rib by rib
Our chests opened like scaled jewels
But you took the key, your classic heartbeat
Art music for a paying crowd
Don't let me let you down
exoskeletonthe lights blink in false patterns
across eyes that have seen
not so much
too much and too many
a day of frost.
there is an acre of water in my hands,
a hectare of sand leaking from my ears
beneath my feet.
my identity is not my body.
with silk skin
does not come a softened soul.
the calluses on the tips
of my fingers
do not denote my nature.
i have half organs and full lips,
a faltering liver and knobs for joints
that root me to this comfort
i can no longer call home.
i want to bathe in my soul and let it enclose me,
hug me tight and rope me in.
wrangle this mess of an image
ManipulationWhen I shimmy from my liquor lips
And into your flat-hearted arms,
I embrace a lifeless silhouette
Of expectations of a sunny day--
But then the clouds clump and freeze
and I am shaking hands with a frosty heart.
I clap inside my mind of treason
tempting myself with little lies that
Show distant glances beyond your flattery.
I scoff at your manipulative tendencies
That dance with ease in simple compliments,
if words were free, then you would chain them
with your overbearing and erroneous ties.
My Old SchoolCrippled by shadows, wait in the dusk for night
Playground ghosts move the swings gently
Trees bow their heads and sigh goodbyes
This is how it is, here, now
Pale moonlight rises to show nothing new
Its been this way for so long, far too long
Pinebranch fingertips drop needles, stars twinkle
The moon turns its attention to the tides
Old bricks, overgrown with weeds, murmur
amongst themselves about children now old
Nightbirds keep reverently quiet and dream
This is how it is, here, now
She PlaysShe begins to play
escape into the expectant silence.
She places the pick
drawing out the tentative bars,
from the hiding of her heart.
With an unseen thought,
for those she wants to know
the sacred poetry of sound, song and soul,
She begins to play.
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