i am the life
i am the death
i am fueled by
adoration for you
you are my whore
you are the mother
to my poems.
and i will never
i ate the edge of time
and pulled my heart out
placed it upon the rock
of gibraltar like a gun
to my head
and how the world murders
words. oh i love misery
and find energy in love
so in time…in time.
And how you counted stars
and tasted all your scars
and how we feel the same
flying away toward Mars .
Into my world i lead you.
:: 08.18.2021 ::
THE embryo’s skinny fists reach the skies
and hides a face yet born
in this summer of burning children you
call a name and the world is asleep.
the fitful swings the stuffed animals
the tired friends called warm winds
have long thoughts of buried snakes
and within the many undreamed thoughts
of a lost world the embryo’s skinny fists
tear the skies apart — the revelation
of new nails grown for 2 months that never
had a drink of the blood you spilled //
some hang their hand and drown within fear
yet, and, with unborn eyes very open, to pretend
a gently passed hand over a baby’s head —
THIN new hair that does not die, long nails
within a soft chest — licking the bloodless
wounds of survival.
The sound of the surgeon’s scalpel.
:: 06.20.2020 ::