What It Feels Like
The time never comes.
It keeps sticking out its hand like it wants you to take it.
It keeps reaching out, palm upwards
And it stays there for so long that the sun carves its name into its skin
And it gets third degree burns.
Communion
Thou shalt part thy thighs so
that my mouth may pass
through thy red sea.
Thou shalt moisten
Extrinsic Muscles / Muscular Hydrostat
my neck hurts from going down on you all morning
it should be my jaw
or maybe the raw musculature (genioglossus) of my tongue
bruised from emulating Samson
Bounded by Language
Language contains great power for humans;
It shapes societies, creates laws and norms.
Builds skyscrapers and
fills the pages of novels.
Poet Tree
Within, a little self harm never hurt anyone,
And you can play for it by playing against it.
Your tools are sharpened and updated without consent,
So when you compete, make it look real.
The Drums of Men
My throat is scorched from the burning sword that guards the gate.
I choke on blood and fire and bits of fruit.
I will go to my sister (who is also my mother), the one who refused to lie beneath you;
the one who lay with demons rather than beneath you.
The Central Bloom
What is a flower if one cannot see
What this flower may someday be?
A bulb, a shoot, a stem, and one crimson flower
All fuelled by the great sun’s power.
September 4
Power lines shaped like medieval kings
replace the white pines
clinging to an autumn sky
The Wanderer
His feet straddle the exhausted beast beneath him,
The wind disperses the clouds like blades of green grass and the light grows dim,
The wandering child considers his existence,
He had just left the lost city without much persistence,
Why had he left?
Untitled
Love, we have one life together-
Two short months among the oaks in summer.
Butterflies want to tell me your secrets,
Bumblebees dance to usher autumn in.
Rhapsody
Touch my chords of varied hue
Play me until I blend with you
Reach the depths of my arduous soul
Whose moods only your melodies can control.
Contemplation
Look into these eyes, they don’t lie.
They speak words that I cannot say.
Sitting here I wipe the tears from eyes that cry for the youth of today.
The Terror of Territory
I drew a circle with my piece of chalk.
And stepped inside my province.
I declared, “stay out, this space is mine”.
And everyone obliged.
Radio Static
Radio on to fill the silence
and give company on this lonely night.
Windows down, cool august air
and streetlamps blur my sight.
Your House is Not Our Home
Airways like barricades; your notes are dead to me.
A deaf ear to the nonsense bred to restrict the conscious
…just to dilute our progress.
This is a twisted war, with censored signs of conflict
This City’s Boring Without You
These streets aren’t meant for me.
Though once I thought they were
a few blocks and signs and traffic confines
simply meant to be -
But just a few.
Channel
Soon this won’t be your home
You’ll come back to appreciate the way
the light falls on the leaves
My Love
My father walks the woods
And I was plucked from my nest
And thrown into this cement, living advertisement.
I grasped at what I could
To stay above the masses,
The hollow moving city streets,
Growing, spewing, bustling,
With white canvas faces
Untitled
Eyes shoot like stars, mouths smash, cheeks bout,
tongues run along necks like deserts,
up chins like mountains,
in mouths like wells
wherein secrets burst out.
That Sugar In My Tea
You scientists of a crooked truth.
Holding all your beakers tight.
Talk of all your brewing thoughts,
Has burned, but not shed any light.
