// luna //

Flocks of wings fell from a covetous sky as I was dancing barefoot along the edge of
sickle blades beheld in your eyes,
razors cut straight into
an alabaster wind and all I have in this cruel world is a
blood wine offering to my ungodly thirst
for you:
flawless
standing once removed
at a mirror gazing into
the first orgasmic pulse of the universe.
To crave you is adoption of strange distortion, black flames wet with resplendent poison;
I am fertile, the depths of my shadows have
grown again
young.
Temptress, goddess, luna, luna, luna Diana,
deliverance, solar bodies locked in iron chairs
bending back against blue celestial walls.
You are the ancient guiding light when the galaxies are riotous clouds in my
disconnected
hands.
What of the promise which swallows the tears of dying stars
this bone cold ocean of downturned faces
as the earth cries out for her own rebirth
a river
snakes around my infectious words;
ghost lovers in soft willow frames, ecstatic oblivious rotation,
lost minds spinning on axis upon a thimble
dressing and undressing us in rose water and sage.
The crystal globes inside you are melting time beneath my fevered skin
as I insert you, blessed dark heaven between my fingers and my thighs,
tragedy and faith forever bound;
our secrets have become
corruptions
of an unrelenting
tide.

.

.

.

// dark mistress //

Bone to cheek
we eclipse each other
she walks within me as I am left
behind,
shadow bodies, horses standing still at the gate.
I would trade my pain for pleasure, disconnect my jaw from my
heart if only
there were a way to separate the two.
Collections taken up in the spiral of this dark sea bed, breathing:
stars the taste of lavender liquid thunder,
my eyes held in her
eyes closing;
one face
reflected at the count of ten, mirrors on
hands on
ceilings
soft ivory angel wings bend in the clouds on fire, tongues of old in the mouths of
newborn creatures born quietly shrieking
all over the world the little lights are hungry,
hills in flames and I am the rain cascading
as she falls through me time and time
again
ash into ash disintegrating.
What I have done is the emerald chalice of mine
own blood
these sins to which she is
blind as I am
sowing seeds in the tears of this sickness
clutching its beak at the nape of my neck.
To be alone is to be
possessed,
the circling song of her thin disruptive fingers
golden chains braided between her translucent breasts
something beautiful,
bewitching in the mouth on the mouth
of my own death.

.

.

.

// hearts break all over the world and here //

I knew it was time to begin again

slow.

Collect the slim beats of my disfigured heart

and each one of her tender pieces

into a somber fading evening twilight

of the soul,

tuck my bruised bones

into a nest of ambient solitude

and listen to every raindrop

tell its story.

I knew

the ways in which I had been torn apart

would heal again back together

and leave a new kind of scar,

the kind I would have to learn

to wear in the daylight

this time

too

soon.

.

.

.

// holding still //

November is a bare bedroom welcoming the dying of light
slipping in.
my waiting skin
crystal white powder on pines
you are pink sky spreading
and, melting,
we begin to bleed the salt of oceans, to blend;
water returning always to water
eyes reflecting pools and we
dare,
softly,
full to the pulsing throat of a scourging
hunger,
drawn at the reverent knees by this ecstatic
worthiness,
to taste each other slow.
we are the way a frozen winter’s night builds fires
inside the hollow frames of animal bodies,
smoke in our lungs
tongues and flames in our teeth
birds gliding
silent
overhead.

.

.

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