the black girl dies alone
i.
and her name is
white noise
because her
skin is the sheen of a dark walnut stain
and her hair is twisted in thick black ropes
that hang down her back like
branches of a grand old willow
and for these unfortunate beauties her
parents didn’t let her out at night, fearing
she wouldn’t make it
home
ii.
her voice is a favorite worn-in denim, and
her eyes are voids, a depth in which i could
fit all but her heart, the beats could start
earthquakes and heartbreaks, i imagine
and damn, her smile changes the
color of the sky i swear the clouds
shy away, when they hear the seal of her
lips beginning to part
a drivers test she wasn’t allowed to take because
if she started driving the
possibility of her not coming home was
exponentially raised, i didn’t understand at the time but
she always seemed so ashamed, not to have a
car, a license, and not because of money, but because
they were all just too afraid
iii.
a best friend, a girl of dark skin
made darker by blood, was stabbed to death
in brutal daylight
i understood then, their fear
when the white boy dies
of an accidental overdose
the town rallies; a
funeral that the whole school
attends --
and the black girl dies
alone
i.
and her name is
white noise
because her
skin is the sheen of a dark walnut stain
and her hair is twisted in thick black ropes
that hang down her back like
branches of a grand old willow
and for these unfortunate beauties her
parents didn’t let her out at night, fearing
she wouldn’t make it
home
ii.
her voice is a favorite worn-in denim, and
her eyes are voids, a depth in which i could
fit all but her heart, the beats could start
earthquakes and heartbreaks, i imagine
and damn, her smile changes the
color of the sky i swear the clouds
shy away, when they hear the seal of her
lips beginning to part
a drivers test she wasn’t allowed to take because
if she started driving the
possibility of her not coming home was
exponentially raised, i didn’t understand at the time but
she always seemed so ashamed, not to have a
car, a license, and not because of money, but because
they were all just too afraid
iii.
a best friend, a girl of dark skin
made darker by blood, was stabbed to death
in brutal daylight
i understood then, their fear
when the white boy dies
of an accidental overdose
the town rallies; a
funeral that the whole school
attends --
and the black girl dies
alone
white parasite
and a man today had
white pride
tattooed across his knuckles and i
noticed it only after an
eloquent conversation about
teaching children how to
draw
parasites weaving their way and
behind normalcy is there always
hatred deep in their veins and
do we truly bleed the same and
im questioning everyone now, asking -
if they made me with crayons of
brown and black would we then
lack this respectful, casual, eye contact?
and a man today had
white pride
tattooed across his knuckles and i
noticed it only after an
eloquent conversation about
teaching children how to
draw
parasites weaving their way and
behind normalcy is there always
hatred deep in their veins and
do we truly bleed the same and
im questioning everyone now, asking -
if they made me with crayons of
brown and black would we then
lack this respectful, casual, eye contact?
outinout (stretch)
and out
in the world we
push our outsides, keep
things beneath well-hid
but alone, all that is
within melts our skin-thin
chests and swells
whole rooms drown
in the release, then
breathe deeply
reabsorb, and again our
peeling ribs rise --
give in, rescind
and out
in the world we
push our outsides, keep
things beneath well-hid
but alone, all that is
within melts our skin-thin
chests and swells
whole rooms drown
in the release, then
breathe deeply
reabsorb, and again our
peeling ribs rise --
give in, rescind
if i wrote about you in blood
and i thought i
felt you in the wind
driving home from the theatre
thought i saw you sitting in the back
thought i saw us, kissing
we laugh each time
someone mentions the film
we sat through but never saw
i breathe differently around you
as if the air in my lungs
is lighter, and cooler, and
alive
as if your words condense to mist
and tint the ether with you
i collect it in camera pixels and
stacks of notebook pages wet with
the fresh ink of you, the
kind you gifted me, along with the
beautiful glass pen
made for calligraphy
my poems are thick with it
and sink in the depths of you
in the space between the nib
and the parchment
poems bleed out there, the
poems about you
and if they were penned in red
surely, i would long since be dead
and i thought i
felt you in the wind
driving home from the theatre
thought i saw you sitting in the back
thought i saw us, kissing
we laugh each time
someone mentions the film
we sat through but never saw
i breathe differently around you
as if the air in my lungs
is lighter, and cooler, and
alive
as if your words condense to mist
and tint the ether with you
i collect it in camera pixels and
stacks of notebook pages wet with
the fresh ink of you, the
kind you gifted me, along with the
beautiful glass pen
made for calligraphy
my poems are thick with it
and sink in the depths of you
in the space between the nib
and the parchment
poems bleed out there, the
poems about you
and if they were penned in red
surely, i would long since be dead
liz
and if you were a season
you’d be the child of
spring and summer
with all the sweetness of
new blooms and the energy of
sunlight unbound
subtle exaggerations with
crescent-moon nose and
strength within and
fought till only
light remains
liz you are a contained wild, with
dual energies, quiet, yet with
fortitude in spoken words, your
hair hides an innocence tainted by a
storm-past, but since then, it, and you--
have grown
and if you were a season
you’d be the child of
spring and summer
with all the sweetness of
new blooms and the energy of
sunlight unbound
subtle exaggerations with
crescent-moon nose and
strength within and
fought till only
light remains
liz you are a contained wild, with
dual energies, quiet, yet with
fortitude in spoken words, your
hair hides an innocence tainted by a
storm-past, but since then, it, and you--
have grown
james
and the lines of his
neck contour --
an elven poise in his elegance
in the cheek and jaw
smiles are forced but
grins come naturally, riding the
high of the forehead, just above
the dark brows and
straight nose
long hair and legs grow
grace, even as the toes dance
to his awkward gait and
james you love
your humour and your
silence reflects jokes untold
and the lines of his
neck contour --
an elven poise in his elegance
in the cheek and jaw
smiles are forced but
grins come naturally, riding the
high of the forehead, just above
the dark brows and
straight nose
long hair and legs grow
grace, even as the toes dance
to his awkward gait and
james you love
your humour and your
silence reflects jokes untold
olivia
and her head-halo --
the light through the rafters
hugging the curves of her low-flying
strays, flyaways
i know she soars
i’ve seen eyes-closed dances
on the wooden floor
the disco can’t stop this
grounded pilot and the
eyelash resting between
constellations
(she refuses to make a wish
as it is swept into the cosmos)
her arms and legs are
crossed but she isn’t
strength smiles easily on her
gentle steel wings don’t flap but
float, and olivia your black-hole hair
is generous with the light it leaves behind
staining the sun and
shimmering
and her head-halo --
the light through the rafters
hugging the curves of her low-flying
strays, flyaways
i know she soars
i’ve seen eyes-closed dances
on the wooden floor
the disco can’t stop this
grounded pilot and the
eyelash resting between
constellations
(she refuses to make a wish
as it is swept into the cosmos)
her arms and legs are
crossed but she isn’t
strength smiles easily on her
gentle steel wings don’t flap but
float, and olivia your black-hole hair
is generous with the light it leaves behind
staining the sun and
shimmering
bladespace
and if i was to
fence
with the human condition to
prove what it’s worth
who would stand alongside
to judge
each
touch
and if each flick would
align stars
constellating across
the chest, and each lunge would
(frame by frame)
fraction the blades-width between
myself and
mortality, would i then be
irreversibly immortal
and would we ever truly
touch, if the boundaries of particles can be
defined as space then my aren’t we
galaxies apart, emotionality
and i
and at the end of the bout
would our footwork not mark our
styles, design us
by the nature of our
elegantly moving
soles
bladework isn’t handy but wristy
and while the foil feels
light in my grasp, i feel heavy
knowing the epee thrusts to wound
and the sabre slashes to weaken
and i, the foil, will lunge to kill
and if i was to
fence
with the human condition to
prove what it’s worth
who would stand alongside
to judge
each
touch
and if each flick would
align stars
constellating across
the chest, and each lunge would
(frame by frame)
fraction the blades-width between
myself and
mortality, would i then be
irreversibly immortal
and would we ever truly
touch, if the boundaries of particles can be
defined as space then my aren’t we
galaxies apart, emotionality
and i
and at the end of the bout
would our footwork not mark our
styles, design us
by the nature of our
elegantly moving
soles
bladework isn’t handy but wristy
and while the foil feels
light in my grasp, i feel heavy
knowing the epee thrusts to wound
and the sabre slashes to weaken
and i, the foil, will lunge to kill
if jesus was here would he be smoking weed
and now we’re
back to the baptistry
back to climbing our columns
back to standing on pedestals
burdened by facts we
carry our power-sources with us
everywhere, paranoid, gripping our
power with our phobia of
absence
and our skulls, our
bleached white bones are
alight, and the fires keep
burning fires keep
burning fires keep us
(high)
yearning for more
learning to forget
and forgetting to learn
and now we’re
back to the baptistry
back to climbing our columns
back to standing on pedestals
burdened by facts we
carry our power-sources with us
everywhere, paranoid, gripping our
power with our phobia of
absence
and our skulls, our
bleached white bones are
alight, and the fires keep
burning fires keep
burning fires keep us
(high)
yearning for more
learning to forget
and forgetting to learn
tempting capsize
and justly capsize
size down,
downsize
capitals are for the proper
proper is the four
legs holding up a table
atop which a paper is part of a
palimpsest, rewrite the rules rewrite my
rights, and keep in mind that my mind keeps
up with your bullshit and
dare to be tempted and
i’ll be your daring tempest
and justly capsize
size down,
downsize
capitals are for the proper
proper is the four
legs holding up a table
atop which a paper is part of a
palimpsest, rewrite the rules rewrite my
rights, and keep in mind that my mind keeps
up with your bullshit and
dare to be tempted and
i’ll be your daring tempest
dead/living/sellout
and
living things are just
dead things waiting to happen
she says today and
im running out of expiration dates and
seven years of regrowth don’t change much so it’s
time to start learning
time to start sanity
sanctity
sanitizing
saintly roses don’t apply to me and
how do armies move so
swiftly, so easily and oh we have
spectacular to do things today and
don’t be afraid to be a sell out
he says today and
dead things were once living but
that doesn’t mean they
lived
and
living things are just
dead things waiting to happen
she says today and
im running out of expiration dates and
seven years of regrowth don’t change much so it’s
time to start learning
time to start sanity
sanctity
sanitizing
saintly roses don’t apply to me and
how do armies move so
swiftly, so easily and oh we have
spectacular to do things today and
don’t be afraid to be a sell out
he says today and
dead things were once living but
that doesn’t mean they
lived
chains
and in the name of
all those i’ve lost
and the rain i got caught
in
float now between rockets and
unwashed dishes
somewhere in the kaleidoscopic
realm of inevitability
and in the name of
all those i’ve lost
and the rain i got caught
in
float now between rockets and
unwashed dishes
somewhere in the kaleidoscopic
realm of inevitability
melting rainbows (life)
and i jumped in puddles today
on my way back from living
passing by a pair of violet eyes
and a dozen neon houses — i
thought they were beautiful once
hanging colour to drip from
sloping rooftops, down the gutters
collecting in spectral pools
some are wide and shallow
others drain deep into
hellfire below, so
warm sometimes they
steam, mist trickling off
into the air
and i found leftover
leaves in my hair today
dry and cracking
and inhaling the color of the sky
so far gone i
apologized, and sealed them in a jar
next to the box of chances
i’ll never take and the
pouch full of dust the hue of
lightning that warns me --
be wary of immortality
and i jumped in puddles today
on my way back from living
passing by a pair of violet eyes
and a dozen neon houses — i
thought they were beautiful once
hanging colour to drip from
sloping rooftops, down the gutters
collecting in spectral pools
some are wide and shallow
others drain deep into
hellfire below, so
warm sometimes they
steam, mist trickling off
into the air
and i found leftover
leaves in my hair today
dry and cracking
and inhaling the color of the sky
so far gone i
apologized, and sealed them in a jar
next to the box of chances
i’ll never take and the
pouch full of dust the hue of
lightning that warns me --
be wary of immortality
speshal water
and at the very bottom there are
words crossed out and i think
damn, i missed it
each phrase a hint at — what?
perhaps the mind, perhaps the heart
perhaps stoned musings and
fragments of clarity
because i live for those
i found one today, glimpsed it
beyond the embroidered
“pass-port / final emblems”
on the chest of his shirt
it said
“very speshal water
for real
human beings”
and at the very bottom there are
words crossed out and i think
damn, i missed it
each phrase a hint at — what?
perhaps the mind, perhaps the heart
perhaps stoned musings and
fragments of clarity
because i live for those
i found one today, glimpsed it
beyond the embroidered
“pass-port / final emblems”
on the chest of his shirt
it said
“very speshal water
for real
human beings”
tells-optics (eclipse)
and today he’s placidly dark
eclipsing
his alien friend gone away, replaced with
spiderwebs of three and
flowers on his sleeve
he’s drawn the earth
hugged by a crescent moon that
seems to imply orbit, with lines
around the sides and
a hooded child looking up
through a wall--
(no window, but with telescopic eyes
maybe they see straight through the
space between atoms)
he says
“i like it here inside my
mind; don’t wake me this time”
and today he’s placidly dark
eclipsing
his alien friend gone away, replaced with
spiderwebs of three and
flowers on his sleeve
he’s drawn the earth
hugged by a crescent moon that
seems to imply orbit, with lines
around the sides and
a hooded child looking up
through a wall--
(no window, but with telescopic eyes
maybe they see straight through the
space between atoms)
he says
“i like it here inside my
mind; don’t wake me this time”
lucky (the leopard)
and s/he’s a leopard
not a cheetah, i always say--
genderless too, going back and
forth between pronouns
but always a leopard, and
always lucky
childhood alliteration illuminating my
fondness for words, even then
in the car hugging him/her on the way
home from the garage sale
i understood the the troves of stories in the synthetic
fur, genuine kindness, toying with
plastic whiskers i cut off the tag
to add realism
(real leopards don’t tell you
how to bathe them)
and i can't zip him up in
suitcases -- the eyes find their way out
begging to be held, and the guilt
is sickening
inexplicable love for a stuffed animal i never
questioned, yet -- love from breathing humans?
always
and s/he’s a leopard
not a cheetah, i always say--
genderless too, going back and
forth between pronouns
but always a leopard, and
always lucky
childhood alliteration illuminating my
fondness for words, even then
in the car hugging him/her on the way
home from the garage sale
i understood the the troves of stories in the synthetic
fur, genuine kindness, toying with
plastic whiskers i cut off the tag
to add realism
(real leopards don’t tell you
how to bathe them)
and i can't zip him up in
suitcases -- the eyes find their way out
begging to be held, and the guilt
is sickening
inexplicable love for a stuffed animal i never
questioned, yet -- love from breathing humans?
always
glitch in validation
i.
and i'm not v a l i d a t i n g
but an invalid
maybe, taken with lethologica i
can't keep my
<neck> from unscrewing my
shoulders scrunch
(wires snapping and
jumping electric sparks
wink at me from the
other side of the grid)
ii.
and code an [entity]
to keep it tight and straight
and the closing tag is
</sanity> but i can’t breathe that way
not when my metadata wont
validate
and my php loops me back to
square one, i think in
boxes but i’m living
outside of one
iii.
and i must have mismatched
attributes and flawed css and
gliitching never was my --
encryptions never were my --
flawed html was never my --
my $debug isn’t working
print the array and include the
closing tag </ok> i may not validate but at least i’m
valid
i.
and i'm not v a l i d a t i n g
but an invalid
maybe, taken with lethologica i
can't keep my
<neck> from unscrewing my
shoulders scrunch
(wires snapping and
jumping electric sparks
wink at me from the
other side of the grid)
ii.
and code an [entity]
to keep it tight and straight
and the closing tag is
</sanity> but i can’t breathe that way
not when my metadata wont
validate
and my php loops me back to
square one, i think in
boxes but i’m living
outside of one
iii.
and i must have mismatched
attributes and flawed css and
gliitching never was my --
encryptions never were my --
flawed html was never my --
my $debug isn’t working
print the array and include the
closing tag </ok> i may not validate but at least i’m
valid
inky whisperings
and i thought we bent like the
tips of paintbrushes
(supple, smooth, hunters)
but we get left in the water too long we
wilt
the hairs twisted into knots but you’ve
twisted into knights
i watch
from between bristles i s(dr)aw you
cough up hazy watercolor and bleed
oils, breathe acrylic
your face is pastel but your armour is
graphite, gradients from h to b and back again
shiny
you grew from dead flower petals and
ink that rethought standing placid in
tubes in a mug on a desk in a
room overlooking life
how could it remain there, running dry
when it could be running
and how could i, reading the glyphs in the sky
and twixt canvas pages, remain human
when promised i could fly
and i thought we bent like the
tips of paintbrushes
(supple, smooth, hunters)
but we get left in the water too long we
wilt
the hairs twisted into knots but you’ve
twisted into knights
i watch
from between bristles i s(dr)aw you
cough up hazy watercolor and bleed
oils, breathe acrylic
your face is pastel but your armour is
graphite, gradients from h to b and back again
shiny
you grew from dead flower petals and
ink that rethought standing placid in
tubes in a mug on a desk in a
room overlooking life
how could it remain there, running dry
when it could be running
and how could i, reading the glyphs in the sky
and twixt canvas pages, remain human
when promised i could fly
erosion of majesty
and each is a piece of calving ice
a piece shaved from the mind to
lay atop the spine
they pile up on the neck and it stiffens
captured in a locked freezer
water’s heavier than it looks and
when the crystalline waves break they shatter--
(there’s a difference between frost and snow and
only one cries when it leaves--
the other sobs)
tears melt down the back, sink into the bones and when
winter comes around again
it’ll freeze, toxic saltwater weighing the body down
to sink in the spring floods
and while watching snowfall is peaceful
be reminded
the crumbling cryosphere moans
under sun-pressure, under intense heat and
sweats, erosion of majesty
erasure of life
and each is a piece of calving ice
a piece shaved from the mind to
lay atop the spine
they pile up on the neck and it stiffens
captured in a locked freezer
water’s heavier than it looks and
when the crystalline waves break they shatter--
(there’s a difference between frost and snow and
only one cries when it leaves--
the other sobs)
tears melt down the back, sink into the bones and when
winter comes around again
it’ll freeze, toxic saltwater weighing the body down
to sink in the spring floods
and while watching snowfall is peaceful
be reminded
the crumbling cryosphere moans
under sun-pressure, under intense heat and
sweats, erosion of majesty
erasure of life
delivery (drive-by)
and i almost hoped
the dominoes would topple over
notice the lines forming
notice the dots connecting
notice the romanticism in
stopping the car with an inquisitive look
to smear a wave on my mime-box
with greasy fingers
delivery boy you
drive too fast you
don’t close your eyes enough you
don’t you
floor it
and i almost hoped
the dominoes would topple over
notice the lines forming
notice the dots connecting
notice the romanticism in
stopping the car with an inquisitive look
to smear a wave on my mime-box
with greasy fingers
delivery boy you
drive too fast you
don’t close your eyes enough you
don’t you
floor it
night on the bench
and clouds redder than my
eyes the day my
silence became my
voice and
absence became my
natural state and
the way her hair lit up before those
blood-clouds
cut off my air
cut off the
monotone faded into the warm windows
yellow faded light into the walls
pale purple skies fade to
black nights
sleepless blue
skin creeps in through the throat
through the branches of the neck
and i wait for inevitable fatigue
on the bench where i always see
figures with their smoke
and moonlit shadows dive into shallow, grated pools on
the rusted third floor fire escape
(beneath which i fake a high and
drown in the graphite smudged on my fingertips)
and clouds redder than my
eyes the day my
silence became my
voice and
absence became my
natural state and
the way her hair lit up before those
blood-clouds
cut off my air
cut off the
monotone faded into the warm windows
yellow faded light into the walls
pale purple skies fade to
black nights
sleepless blue
skin creeps in through the throat
through the branches of the neck
and i wait for inevitable fatigue
on the bench where i always see
figures with their smoke
and moonlit shadows dive into shallow, grated pools on
the rusted third floor fire escape
(beneath which i fake a high and
drown in the graphite smudged on my fingertips)
linger
and scratched into the margin
with cheap black ink--
“hallucinating”
was all i could read over his shoulder
and i thought maybe he was high but
when he smiled at me i knew
he wasn’t
and scratched into the margin
with cheap black ink--
“hallucinating”
was all i could read over his shoulder
and i thought maybe he was high but
when he smiled at me i knew
he wasn’t
ceramics
and cracking lava
beneath skin splits terra-cotta
of veins in the neck and forearms and
the whole body is patterned with these
ceramic fault lines
aesthetic brokenness of fired clay
kneaded into tight vertebrae
slipped and scored and glazed in sanguine red
welcome the spirits to the vessel and
plug up the leaks with excess
breathe baked earth and
try not to shrivel under this wrinkled sky
and cracking lava
beneath skin splits terra-cotta
of veins in the neck and forearms and
the whole body is patterned with these
ceramic fault lines
aesthetic brokenness of fired clay
kneaded into tight vertebrae
slipped and scored and glazed in sanguine red
welcome the spirits to the vessel and
plug up the leaks with excess
breathe baked earth and
try not to shrivel under this wrinkled sky
tarbiya (the upstairs)
and upstairs
at birth
an attic so full of cobwebs
thick enough to lose light in
boxes unwrapped sleep and
open them one by one as the
dawn worms its way
into rotting cardboard
recently i’ve found one
with gender identity
sharpied on the lid
another--sexuality
some are taped tight
to keep out air
others lay open, half-unpacked
partially constructed
trouvaille ideas of the self strewn about
the creaking woodgrain floor
most days the upstairs is
a busy hive—wasp infestation
and i wait below
for exterminators
for the monks made of mountain air and
the texture of deep woods
i can’t reach the attic those days
but some days the hive grows quiet
and i tiptoe up
and dig
and some days i find cobwebs
and some days i find boxes
there’s quite a few labeled
love: the boy
and i keep finding more
are there trolls beneath the floorboards
because i have no doubts about the dragons
(there are boxes overflowing with those)
and perhaps between
becoming the sky
and meaning of mothers
and stella's remains
i’ll find
purpose or epiphany or self-satisfaction
but not yet
my tarbiya is eternal
this attic is forever expanding and
life is too short to run out of boxes
and upstairs
at birth
an attic so full of cobwebs
thick enough to lose light in
boxes unwrapped sleep and
open them one by one as the
dawn worms its way
into rotting cardboard
recently i’ve found one
with gender identity
sharpied on the lid
another--sexuality
some are taped tight
to keep out air
others lay open, half-unpacked
partially constructed
trouvaille ideas of the self strewn about
the creaking woodgrain floor
most days the upstairs is
a busy hive—wasp infestation
and i wait below
for exterminators
for the monks made of mountain air and
the texture of deep woods
i can’t reach the attic those days
but some days the hive grows quiet
and i tiptoe up
and dig
and some days i find cobwebs
and some days i find boxes
there’s quite a few labeled
love: the boy
and i keep finding more
are there trolls beneath the floorboards
because i have no doubts about the dragons
(there are boxes overflowing with those)
and perhaps between
becoming the sky
and meaning of mothers
and stella's remains
i’ll find
purpose or epiphany or self-satisfaction
but not yet
my tarbiya is eternal
this attic is forever expanding and
life is too short to run out of boxes
wrapped in the drifts (february children)
and as the drifts of wind plow through
our minds with the ease of knives through
flesh
reflect on moments between fresh
snowfall, between fresh
wounds, cauterized by the bonfire and
sewn with needles
from the pines and
with crude spheres do we
build from the ground, craft with our
fumbling cloth-hands, tumbling with our
new-fallen friends rise from the earth
made of laughter are they
made of youth do they
wave with maple fingers
sleep with the sun above the clouds
you february children
you halcyon fiends of the icy earth
you souls of
painted flakes with pink of noses and
fingertips and cheeks flushed and
kiss before the fireplace
wrapped in the fondness of memory
and as the drifts of wind plow through
our minds with the ease of knives through
flesh
reflect on moments between fresh
snowfall, between fresh
wounds, cauterized by the bonfire and
sewn with needles
from the pines and
with crude spheres do we
build from the ground, craft with our
fumbling cloth-hands, tumbling with our
new-fallen friends rise from the earth
made of laughter are they
made of youth do they
wave with maple fingers
sleep with the sun above the clouds
you february children
you halcyon fiends of the icy earth
you souls of
painted flakes with pink of noses and
fingertips and cheeks flushed and
kiss before the fireplace
wrapped in the fondness of memory
denim creature (blackened blue-jean)
and if you dig deeper
into the pockets you’ll find only
pale, soft denim
and maybe a leftover
apology
worn thin with the pressures
and creases of a moving body
a quasi-balanced creature of mind that
exists within seven dimensions at once--
the first makes mistakes
the second cultivates
the third, fourth, and fifth regret
the sixth is silent
and the seventh never
sleeps
and at the hems, you’ll find only
splashed-up mud, blood, and kerosene
crafted from the bottles of glitter
and ink, and if you think
this isn’t normal, you should see the
knees
blackened blue-jean with
wisteria embroidered over the
patched patellas
the violet so faded you should see the
(way they walk from a to b and
scuff, kneeling to the moons
waiting to shrink in the cold)
and if you dig deeper
into the pockets you’ll find only
pale, soft denim
and maybe a leftover
apology
worn thin with the pressures
and creases of a moving body
a quasi-balanced creature of mind that
exists within seven dimensions at once--
the first makes mistakes
the second cultivates
the third, fourth, and fifth regret
the sixth is silent
and the seventh never
sleeps
and at the hems, you’ll find only
splashed-up mud, blood, and kerosene
crafted from the bottles of glitter
and ink, and if you think
this isn’t normal, you should see the
knees
blackened blue-jean with
wisteria embroidered over the
patched patellas
the violet so faded you should see the
(way they walk from a to b and
scuff, kneeling to the moons
waiting to shrink in the cold)
waltz
and the broken instrument
we name the spine
laughs and stiffens and heaves
throws itself out
in the cold, in the dead trees it
dances on fractured ice
molding vertebrae with snow
to lengthen up to the void of sky
and be chipped by the stars to return
as flakes
of bone, of sore eyes for sight of
height, sleight of hand-eye
twitches and trembling through
withdrawal — the vibrating edges
of strings and keys out of tune
(as if this h/a/ollowed body could sing)
and the broken instrument
we name the spine
laughs and stiffens and heaves
throws itself out
in the cold, in the dead trees it
dances on fractured ice
molding vertebrae with snow
to lengthen up to the void of sky
and be chipped by the stars to return
as flakes
of bone, of sore eyes for sight of
height, sleight of hand-eye
twitches and trembling through
withdrawal — the vibrating edges
of strings and keys out of tune
(as if this h/a/ollowed body could sing)
fermentation of the (fruitless)
and the apple juice is welling up
every hole in my chest
every cavern
ready to diffuse through my ribs through my pores
grow new skin atop mine
to bleed translucent red delicious
(to mine golden)
and i’ll smith roots and harden my bones
an orchard of shivers
(bare branches shaking)
i don’t recall being so brittle but
you were never so distant
(building fences from pieces of me)
and the apple juice is welling up
every hole in my chest
every cavern
ready to diffuse through my ribs through my pores
grow new skin atop mine
to bleed translucent red delicious
(to mine golden)
and i’ll smith roots and harden my bones
an orchard of shivers
(bare branches shaking)
i don’t recall being so brittle but
you were never so distant
(building fences from pieces of me)
mitigation of a lost soul (pearl lacunas)
and behind veils of wind
and your own built-up smog-walls
sheltered by shrouds of
illuminated screens
(dreams)
waves of perfect oblivion have
swallowed you whole
salt of the ether-water
has sucked the life from your eyes
and the empathy from your skin
oh seawind girl
you drowned margaret ages ago
(i lost you ages ago)
you died in your ascension
saying your kismet was with the
lacunas in the closing shells where the
pearls used to be
and behind veils of wind
and your own built-up smog-walls
sheltered by shrouds of
illuminated screens
(dreams)
waves of perfect oblivion have
swallowed you whole
salt of the ether-water
has sucked the life from your eyes
and the empathy from your skin
oh seawind girl
you drowned margaret ages ago
(i lost you ages ago)
you died in your ascension
saying your kismet was with the
lacunas in the closing shells where the
pearls used to be