Posts
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Ornamental Angles
My soul is depreciating. I folded myself into complex origami, gothic arches and bowties and little paper snowflakes, but the creases are starting to tear. -
Tree Blood
A tree has blood, thick blood that fills its cold fractals with slow warmth. We watch the rain fall. And tenderly, I brush the water from my eyes. -
Demiurge
There is a demiurge living in my belly.
I giggle until spring violates the Earth's cold corpse.
The brash moon waits for us to curl our eyelashes and unfurl our hips.
I flamenco with a woman in my throat. -
From Flame
I walk downhill, through the rain and towards the sea. -
Swans
I could feel the burning contrast of continuance, the delicate flock-like dance of a hundred thousand moments distilled into a single impression that shifted with the passage of time and glowed with the curves and subtle vestiges of its previous shap -
The Moth
It’s past midnight.
The rain drips,
resigned to the passing moon.
An ancient hymnal
of old stone
and old stars,
plays in my ears.
Lamp light
And
Loves
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The Stories in Lines
In each person, there’s a story,
one you may or may not know,
but in every person,
there are hints of their long story,
such as in their beauty.
Around their mouth,
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cardiac
last week, my brother dropped his heart
on the pavement and we both
watched as it cracked right open,
spilling in red ribbons and golden gears