and the static played long
children lost, bred from the bleeding of chewed tongues
the sounds came from each corner of a carousel
crumbling human paper
entire days thrown into waste baskets affixed to nowhere
digital profanity came dripping from their radio eyes
all in the streets the Sickness
in dark rivers rushing
cutting the small silent figures away at the knees
but they do not see
what i see
they do not hear
they have faces which blister with angry sky
bodies blown away slow
on the wind.
Low in sound
skin bereft of shadow
it was you
tongue the soft feather bed, you
crushed into the word
broke free the wing
of dark autumn sky.
you frothing window
you moving hands among wreckage
they do not know
how to speak
for you. you each night turned
at the beginning
always the beginning
again and again the ground
clawing at the back teeth
a dream gaping, half-lit
within a dream.
It had been a jasmine evening which left its hand upon my chest, the moon so lonely I could taste her forlorn eyes. Some days prick like lemondrop needles sweet and bitter against the tongue.
Out there the wolves.
Out there the doves.
Out there a world revolves around itself and the same revolution envelopes whatever this cruelty is inside of me. I can hear you talking but I cannot let you in. There was something they gave me to take away the pain and it took you, too.
I am letting go.
The tethers are coming up
ever so slow
but I still hold you deep in my bones
even if I cannot touch you
this I know
My ribs full of roses blossoming thorns
swollen sadness she is breaking my soil she is
she is mine,
beautiful are the tears which do not come and I know
I’ll have to crawl up out of this grave
swallow life again but this baptismal throat is fire,
these limbs, how we have become this tired.
I do not know.
I do not know.
Along the dusted edges
of a world unknown
bodies trailing by
I walk as though a secret
as though a memory
an ivory mist between the fingers
a dream of a time to come
not promised, not spoken of.
We hold onto hope the way we bow our bright eyes into the fog, made in the image of ghosts, made of wisps of fading photograph delirium, the glow at the tips of fireflies against water in the dark. Reflections. Illusions. For everything we hold we wish were something else.
If we are not lovers, if we are not bound together by vein or tongue or country, if our visions eclipse each other but do not touch, then let the world be brought into eternal solitude, let the earth beneath my grass wet feet weep only to be alone. There is something here we refuse to see. Something intelligent, calling to us with its mouth, a wide gray ocean, fingers tearing open knees, rain pricks stiff along the neck beneath the trees.
And we drift, we are adrift, we grasp for what we cannot believe only to fall again upon ourselves. This is me against me. This is you against you, and every mirror is another hall. The rolling thunder of this bone longing, this desperation. Press your palms to mine, I can feel your heart bleeding into time. And as the sun turns down her body to blue sing the mountains to sleep, I am a wanderer inside for the way we do not see. A vessel for the silence crawling along the seams.
The words come as I forget to eat and try to catch them
sand falls through time.
I hope you dream bigger than this.
I hope that you do not give up or turn to face
without tucking your fingers into the hands
of the light.
Hold them close when they are madness
let their voices sing in your mind
when they leave you for dead.
The people who come too close
The ones who leave
still teach if you can learn not to let fear
take you under.
This life as she looks you in the eye
is falling away from under your feet
do not stop
do not give up
do not keep the words in drawers
but if you need to
go away for a long time
and let the sea kiss you
Has this been the hurt inside of you
these cuts on my hands
the crush of broken promises.
Your static mouth a shrieking fog
buzzing in my head, humming –
you like grains of sand
scratching a desert
in my throat.
Remember me a grapefruit moon
hanging in your rear view mirror
love in the back seat
melon. sunset. smoke.
took a back seat.
Now the morning rolls down her sheets
silicone heat waves sweat across my tongue.
I listen for you but all that moves nails along the wall
are reflections of an empty afternoon.
(my arms reach
for three corners from this corner)
The windows are swallowing sunlight
the sunlight is dangling through trees
traces of a dim lit landscape
you used to speak of
His fingers sunk pale hooks
upon the alabaster jaw:
study me with those wet eyes, angel.
Be still and I will teach you
all that cruel body aches