Tag Archives: #hearts

WEARING YOUR FACE

Someone said I wore your face only you could still like that when i closed my eyes  /the last song died and the yearning remains.\

Saying i love you much as the storm comes what color of your eyes cling to your face. i took us to the sea so you could look at me while within arms like a group of living and dead old ladies who wish to dance with me.

How he made a grave  within the street upon the road to nowhere this body, this corpse a mirror of my beauty of loveliness in the world — how you look inside the mirror more beautiful than ever.

Inside this golden unwashed grave the very teeth inside your mouth could not know how to lie.  Hover inside galley nights of sliding seasons of an immense yawn grabbing aspirating  horror.

Then we walked across the ‘again’ and every little pebble stumbled, every little thought.  Every little secret upon your lips and a drop of tears living life as there’s a God watching how we fumble along the way.

Like a hole.
Inside hell.

:: 03.20.2022 ::


NIGHTMARE IN MARIUPOL

THE bombs rang and rang
out with light
into the night
while long nursey nights
as laid i within bed
that darkest hour
of gigantic, formless
queerest moments
a hideous nightmare
a form of father
and mother came
to me dead :
as of night

run oh run for life!
said in almost mock despair.

I leaped and ran i ran
pulled my brother from his bed
and into the night we went.

As earth moved. As skies
shook, as stars twirled
i hide baby brother’s eyes
from that horror.

We went.

Into the wet, cold dark night.

:: 03.17.2022 ::


L O V E ‘S W A R M A C H I N E

L O V E S W A R M A C H I N E

Unstable eyes stand stubborn:
skinFlesh kid won’t mourn
agan wearing sackcloth.

Hard-hearted Emerald hearts
of grandiloquent minds weep
some scorned — such poverty.

Flower face forgot – me/not
between stones paving
gavel grave ground/unpicked
hearts; pare boned.

I created the greatest monster
called language: damned the howling shroud
across the moor raving/upon a leash we wept
knowing which souls go into bare rooms:
the blank untenanted air.

yeah.

and darknest never left. Not a sound.

:: 02.28.2022 ::


THE SHOCK OF IT

THE SHOCK of it.

A mother telling her son: “My son, I won’t let you go to California.”

A young man carries her baby all day long in slings telling him to grow.

Music is ringing into an empty silent room
: a woman lost to grief; and a boy unable to place her
and then her voice and him singing a hard melody, so darkly ironic.

A little singing voice sounds in the distance about a fist coming down hard
on her right breast which hurts beyond words —

: a shadow on the porch

a young woman
a single mother —
chasing blackbirds;
a ghost.

Damp gravel slush raining down on a wood tree, big as a house
covered with silk flowers.

A light touches its branches, fades:

“Ring-a-ling!
Ring-a-ling!”

Mama cries: “Can you make a fairy home out of this?”

“Yep,” I say —

“that’s what I do all day.”

burned bird: the bird must go

(She alone will turn my face to this flame)
bunch of very small black bodies: flocking, in a shadow
of magic, so small, they see their souls away across the ocean
within bird-wings is a full moon.

gone.

HUNTING BOY at the butcher

pink of his heels: she hands him

the armful of feathers

of a dead hawk’s nest,

“now,” she says,

“a nice plumy body and yellow bill.”

// :: 02.09.2022 :: \\


A Bell in The Vineyard

WEEDY tender vines,

potted plants in parks,

and the moon, appearing

in the morning – a moulin heard;

a clump of shrubs murmurs

like bells in a vineyard.

:: 02.05.2022 ::


The Mystery of Love

The mystery of Love
is that i never met you
but have held you within
my dreams tightly as each night
hungry i prowl the streets
within my dreams till dawn
disrupts me, i devour moments
of these fragmented scenes.

Today is yesterday’s tomorrow
and tomorrow is today’s dream ;
as a wolf i prowl the sovereign
heart i call my Love as a puma in the barrens
of Quitratue.

is how i adore the love of you and love’s mystery.

:: 01.18.2022 ::


OPEN OCEAN

SHE liked me like legs with in (between breasts)
magnet tarry speckled stars of waiting maid ~
/ oh hell \ wait!
i usually forget my line about right (revived) now__
____oh well swelter pieces of pisces and
wooden boxes of girly smelly flowers CHOCOLATE heart ate my
full-OP-ion blossom twirling surprises / your advice : you
mace: –> my face___ 6 feet deep.

SHE asked me, ‘like, does the weight
shape/shadow lure drop deep inside
the ocean of life?
oh for weeks genus prunus lipped lover
Orange-Cherry almond meal of my Heart.

:: 12.19.2021 ::


COUGHING COFFEE BEANS NEXT TO BOOKS

DID you see that girl in the corner? Next to the books and coffee beans? Coughing i only smelled the aroma of brilliant coffee like old pages of a book of poetry sleeping. I felt warm and could never look away
so-bent warning (traveling this far) better to say i’m sentimental___(going through my head amour than this feeling flutter-flying butter pie. Dropping me to the wooden floor like a devil to it’s knees.
Parapluie above my head (oh my) a heart of paupiette yea oh yea. All these doors checked ; locked kitchen quiet and dark / dishes washed: pets fed and plants watered.

Oh romanichel heart. For the world.

Swollen lips – un bisou! She (the one who loves me and does not have a physical body) gave: sa suce!

:: 11.11.2021 ::


I ROCKED TOWARD THE SEASHELL

flatness__ charged words.
bellowed//out\\wardness
i chashed utterfly
wing : eXPLOSING butter memory
_(ubble Head > — huggly
faceSMEARED tears OF NO
path/ i .AUGH caught
said she/he said shit\
she left: oh no said HE:
the divine i spoke \ i was
that never good| the skin of
my animal … of all these
of all silence and experienced
traveled. How my eyes are fingers
pelted skillfully rolled. Then,
within my heart; to be never without
that fate of a beating drum inside
my chest. A beautiful nature of
round Moon and square Sun sings
as you. Love is that deepest root
of a breathing sky of life/how higher
is glorious wonderous that I carry
this heart.\ I could ponder my poems
professor/ These sharp teeth and carve
eyes as a cat of nine times to die.
How many have tried. Gentlewoman
and ladies.

:: 11.01.2021 ::


SYNTAX FREEDOM

I DON’T follow rules. It keeps the “format police” away, mostly.
But at times, I have to kick them in academic teeth.

I rode upon the highway — heat, dry-sweat today
Glided through a red light all the way to your
empty uterus parking spot. The organ grinder and
his spotted monkey entertained me while
I sat in a cadmium-baked car = oh Majora, my minora sweets
melting in a box next to me.

My lover we shall spend nights in La Rioja
and taste the best wines and dine upon feasts
in romantic bodegas so we shall stroll
the day upon the land at Casa Rural —
I hear her vineyards
are a magic potion
for heavy hearts!

I hope we miss
the Renfe and Alsa
that we may walk
across the treasure
of Rioja’s Region
and fall in love
while stranded within
a small town as the
last bus leaves
beneath a Spaniard night

These are the memories
I wish in La Rioja

:: 08-15-2014 ::