Look Magical Poetry!
-Branches-
Cedar exhales
Popping it spindly lips
Letting free its long leathery breath
Its shooting yellow spittle
Plays spinning games
With gravity
If love was a tree
It would sway like poplar
And burn like cedar.
........
-Unplugging Time-
3 blinking numbers
Their red digital joints
Mocking passion.
With a sharp tug
My soul unplugs
Time.
I slip between the minutes
And for a few moments
Lay exactly the way I like.
........
-100 Veils-
Within winter’s patience
You can hear
100 veils falling,
The wind clears the sky
In one misty stroke.
........
-Skyscraper-
Suspending lipstick stories
All across his body
If you can read in motion
You may decipher their construction of love
Craning this way
And that
Pivoting on interpretation
Sliding solid penetration
Pulling all the ropes and gimbals
Getting higher every time
She reaches up….
Skyscraper.
(and yes I am painfully aware of how awfully erotic this is!)
........
-Finding Love-
Wading round the filmy grey,
Found in the ground water
Slouching forward
Slack-jawed devotion−
Love shovels stones,
Drilling dynamite down to bed-rock
Manufacturing mountainy breath.
Blinked away,
With a green moonlight tug
It flashes as a pale secret
The earth’s craggy exhale
Made purely out of light.
........
-Traping Fleas in Flacks- (this is prosish)
My mind at 4 in the morning, pushed up against my sleep, roaring. When I’m out of light and there’s no love in my legs for retrieval. I spent the day shitting bricks and making excuses, listening for divine vices, watching pathetic puns puddle out the screen.
Going… going… Gone
Standing by while humanity sells out for simplicity… and loving every moment of it. In fact I even beg for guilt; scandalous, lipstick proof of infidelity- splattering suicide in the flashiest manner. No quiet death for the heedless. I’m starting to believe that ideas are only for fleas, trapped in flasks for better brewing. Maybe it is a good idea to keep the pieces of your face latched inside yourself. Saving it for 4AM, while the rest slides by like a great pink Cadillac with naked lady decals, large fuzzy neon dice, and a velvety back seat where I wouldn’t mind making love.
........
-Spinner-
Blinking between convexity−
swinging, silky sideways hammock,
betwixt the slender leaving fingers,
slung across the most intentional twines,
eight omniscient legs,
spinning infinity in disquiet,
stranded aloft pearly anxiety,
translucent knitted brow,
she snags winged writhing satisfaction,
buzzing epiphanies,
from which she sucks guiltlessness,
compassion is a spider,
with a pair of eyes for every season.
sorry it's a lot. you don't have to read it all or really any of it.