It was denial,
like lovers in a motel room
searching for something beautiful.
She had tattooed the universe
on her back - pretended she was infinite,
but in fact was trapped
under the weight of the world.
Morning TeaShe told him once; the evening sky left her in euphoria. The following morning, he wore all black and put stardust in her tea.
ReincarnateI imagine that I’ll come back
as a librarian, a man and somewhere
in Borneo or Edinburgh,
trying to make sense
of the things I left behind,
we’ll find each other, again -
they say souls travel
in the same circles, and we’ll remember
over words, poetry
and the music you made;
the keys to Freon playing behind us.
it may be a poignant reunion
of once weary souls,
filtering through the universe
time and time again.
I’ll tell you we were lovers in a past life
and you’ll roll your eyes
as you did once before –
a firm scientist and open cynic.
I’ll shrug, as always,
and show you how we unravelled ourselves
Deaf MuseI spill my soul, disguised
as words, into your palms, which
I suppose I mistook for open.
Only you throw
them away. I reel,
when you say;
“Sorry, I wasn’t listening.”
todaytime takes away all the pleasures
of the day; the drum
of falling rain waning
to a muted beat, and we watch
as the world glows,
from the jaded sun. today
the universe is ours
stars an exhibition as we
soar, me and you; birds
Oaki knew a girl once,
with an oak heart and guarded hands
(gloved from touch)
uncrossed her ankles,
let naked fingertips
touch well-read lips, and
her heart kind of turned
i miss that girl,
with the oak heart -
she was tougher.
space junkone moment I was talking
to the man on the moon, and
then I was falling
i was surrounded by
clouds, a wispy layer as
my body started to burn up from breaking
and then, cool solace
as the ocean devoured me,
blowing silvery bubbles
as I floated like
rogue space debris -
nomadic to time and space.
FathomlessGulping at the tide,
she sinks; the siren with copper hair.
this is where the mermaids sleep;
the sunken city
where her father is king
and the world is all sky whales,
its staring, black eyes of the unknown
keeping secrets during its somnolent slumber.
KaliThe three crows cawed
with ruffled feathers
and bodies decayed - black hearts beating
beneath a cage of bones.
In a world of men and monsters
I was lost looking for you;
a forgotten bride in virginal black
caught between amnesia and love.
Wildflowers grew in the ashes of your absence.
I store myself beneath its roots -
and ready for you to remember me again.
The Giantsthe earth is our ship, and we turn through
oceans of time
on the mad waves of a
dark cosmic deep, lost in a vast sea
billions of points of light our guides
the ghosts of stars lightyears away that have already died
and been reborn,
swallowed into blackholes
like the skeletal masts of wrecks
and lighthouses torn asunder.
in gravitational tides we are pulled
and seafarers draw strange patterns in the sky -
so that we might cut the universe to size
to stop our minds from drowning.
we forget to look with fear and awe and
we whisper (why)s -
at a world we cannot touch beyond the hull.
they are reborn again.
with minds awake we voyage, dreaming softly
of gods and reincarnations
lost in delusions of afterlifes and
And beyond us in our black ocean
the stars are reborn
the light of millions of ghosts touches us
and fills our sky with sights that rob us
all energy survives and recycles into
we are immortal ghost-watchers
The swerveI tore my flesh on the corner of the lake & bled in cubes
and my best friend knew the weight of my green eyes and tried to sell them
and the spring left me heavy in my skin and the air she breathed me
tasted of umami and B12 and water. I drank it all in just like water
and began the aviary process of collecting budding groves and early springs.
you came to me with eyes like empty jars begging for sparks
and the hundred scraps of paper of pretty lies in pretty cursives,
the firefly wings and peonies and ocean salts and river rocks
and you were the first one capable of rustling the dead leaves
at the creek floor, so those went in, too. adding pensive things
to your eyes until they flooded over. they keep flowing
You were beside me trembling at being essential
and I could barely contain my laughter
from spilling into the air of the auroral forest
and getting caught naked in the mountains
The first time I didn't mean it to tear
through your skull and plant flowers
and you were beside me
I am a natural lucid dreamer. When I was sick,
I dreamed away whole strings of days that burst
with causal power, as if the sun, shining past
my silted eyelids, had spilled a home behind them.
You watched how well I played that girl:
high heels, sparkle eyes,
sitting on his work desk with my lips curled,
legs crossed, booze at needle length
beneath my skin expelling floral tones,
I pretended to fall asleep on top of his blankets
so I had access to my concave nest,
a place without his hands on my stomach, no,
and without his mouth on my shoulder.
Now I am not even here
and he doesn't know, not at all.
My respectability besieged
the rest of me when I believed
in being respectable, for,
like a miasma of red night,
pulling up sleep in orange-tasting sinews,
you were born from a nautilus shell
to ensnare the thirst of laughing.
Had you been tossed so far beyond yourself during the night
that you woke up aware that you think about eternity
because it's manifes
Pyres aren't just for the dead.I am a fire-starter;
all dragon's breath,
birthed by flame.
When you finally said
you needed me, I was
already reborn. Ash smeared
along my face,
fire drizzling my body.
I'm not the girl you were
hoping for, darling.
Too wild for your clammy
hands to grip and sculpt,
I am blazing, igniting.
My hands house infernos, my
heart is now a hearth.
I do not need
you to keep me warm.
my heart is just paper for muscle and ink for blood, but i like to think that if i tore out a few pages and bound them in leather, it might just mean something.
and i tell you, i want to tell you, no, i am not more than that. i am not human, made up of muscle and bones that break, but words. i am books and flowers and the coffee i had this morning because, no --i cannot be me. i cannot be this.
i don't want to be here, scared these little sinews are snapping like dental floss between my hungry teeth.
i've smeared my make up over your neck and collarbones, wrinkled your shirt with my paint-chipped nails, and somewhere between the first pain and hiccup of a sob, i've forgotten how to speak. you hold me tighter each time it steals my breath and listen to make sure i remember how to after it passes, say my name softly to remind me to stay with you.
and you've pressed your hand over my chest, as if keeping it there will hold the weathered organ together.
thirteen steps to falling in love1. i spend the first two years we know each other sprawled out in the back of our school bus, trying to befriend girls with cigarette ash for skin. it takes months of letting tar settle in my lungs, but finally i find myself sitting next to you.
2. when we are fourteen, you write out my name in an entirely new alphabet of obtuse triangles and right angles and on a chilly fall morning, dare me to guess who it is you like. i lie my way through the entire school year until two weeks before summer, when you give me all the clues.
3. to this day, you swear you fell in love with me the fall my mother was given her expiration date. i tell you the first morning of our sophomore year, and even though we are too scared to touch, your words would mean more than every heavy embrace up until her funeral.
4. you watch me fall down the stairs just once, and after seeing how i fold in on myself, swear never to see me hurt again. for four years you've caught me, and have amended th
i do not love holding you up
like a sinking ship
--your hipbones are jutting above
seas of skin again, icebergs
tearing both you
and me apart
have you drank water today?
because i worry
there is no fluidity in the way
you move anymore
you are all angles, angel
your body creaks and moans
like an old, worn out machine
and i don't have your schematics
i know you've taken a tape measure
of every inch of yourself but
i cannot measure your mind
to figure out how to fix you
even though your spine
has more ridges
than the rocky mountains,
you know you cannot move them
you cannot pick up textbooks
your stockpot full of water
please, don't forget how to smile again
i remember all those years ago
when you lost so much of yourself
that even though i could help you up stairwells
and wait for you on the bus every morning
those beautiful twenty six muscles
jointedi remember days of holding your hands
and swearing they felt so heavy,
the synovial fluid that welled up
around your joints was liquid lead
for years i wished to give you
one thousand of my white blood cells
for each day i had to leave you
stranded on the kitchen floor
and when i finally learned the words
i wanted to tell you:
the doctors never made you stronger
with any injection or titanium bones
but you did yourself
every morning you stood
and opened your eyes
a woman asked me
if i would like to take home flowers for you
and i wanted to ask if in the coolers
she had enough yellow roses
to fill the spaces between your
kneecaps and every joint that ever ached
so maybe you would come back alive
if i could promise
pain wouldn't greet you
the less i knowsomething new: my breath hitched but the words meant nothing.
i owed the light peserverent flattery in the form of prose,
stories of what could have been.
the gloom in which i slept was a system altogether unable to measure up to the new universe;
to exist together in perfect cognition is first to understand that i never wish to be better.
how pitiable this impure form to which we all succumb
littered with stars. i am temporary like them, almost, always and never.
I have forgotten how to live. it is late mornings during which i upturn my lazy eyes to the sky
against it's will. there, like you, live millions- and my mind is reborn.
the day comes. easily her gentle beckoning fills our minds. the sky is golden-blue:
unmasterable. we retract our wicked claws and our majestic selves
are now only threats we cannot perceive.
we lie nestled like tired humans together in the cold grass, and the blades are shining
wet with the tears of the dawn. we're late. we're forgotten
you touch the e
Flicking through yellowed pages,
The crinkles smelling of dust and tears.
A human-induced God complex - authorial authority.
At parties, she hides behind her camera, just so
Someone gives her a smile once in a while.
Too bad she only sneaks candid photos.
Vindictive whispers cloy behind closed
Hands and hardened hearts. They vent.
An immunity to gossip; a cathartic release.
Peeping toms on laptop screens and
DVDs - it's only natural, apparently.
What is normal anyway?
(the good kind of) purgingdear mom,
i know i've written you dozens of letters in my life and none of them have made their way to your hands, but just maybe this one will.
because this year, i will take this paper and plunge it into the earth where not a bit of your bones rest, but roses in your memory grow. on christmas, when the rest of the world is opening presents, i will drive too fast to the ocean where you sleep. i will run barefoot on the jetties you warned me never to step on until my feet string with salt and split open from shells. and this time, i will not be a self-fulfilling prophecy. i will not tumble myself heart-first into the sea where we laid you to rest, but stand at the edge and scream above the tumult of waves and your voice carrying in the wind. i will tell you i'm sorry, sorry for every time my hands misplaced themselves down my throat and found their ways inside my skin. sorry for lining myself with morse code, and never showing you a single message. sorry for swallowing sorr
InfiniteWe’d make a beautiful constellation,
You and I –
shivering galaxies that may implode
but who keep expanding,
still hiding in gravitational lenses
of sheer splendor -
a thousand and one stars;
we could wish for personals
or maskless parades
without crippling facades-
not nameless but known.
You and I,
we could be brighter
than the sun.
on forgetting how to live in peaceful timesand i tried for a very long time to make music but i couldn't. i wasn't built for it. neither were you. we walk the sidelines and haunt the sidestreets and hum the smallsongs. we are vicious lovers. this is why we did not last. because we know about loneliness and we got over trying to drown ourselves in crowds too quickly. because we suffocated instead. because we said fuck this, and wanted. because we drank whisky straight and coughed the burn down our throats until it hit our chests and stuck and stayed there until it grew into a fire and we vomited flames. because we talked too much and did not know about volume or damage control.
or maybe that was just me.
and i tried for a very long time to learn how to leave people but i couldn't. i tried to learn distrust but i couldn't. i tried to learn oblivion and all i have to show for it is memories of hospitals and hand sanitiser. you were even more prone to self-destruction than me. at least on the outside. oh look it's back to you
on loving lengthwisei.
in my near-nineteen years of life i have never wanted something, someone so much.
[no, i swear, not even death itself]
waking up without you hurts.
even though you don't have one, i slept with my webcam on last night so maybe you could catch a glimpse of me sleeping.
you say i shiver in dreamland, and i tell you that's because i hardly dream --there is nothing in my mind then but grey matter and cold air, because even with the heat blasting at seventy and four fleece blankets, i have trouble making my own warmth.
you told me that even so, i was smiling. and i said that though i don't remember, the only explanation would be that i was dreaming of you --before you were mine, you were my only dreams worth remembering. now, you're the only ones i ever have.
going out in winter seems colder than ever without you here.
it makes me think of years ago, when i found that without flesh, it is impossible to insulate bones. you would sit next to me every morning on the bus, and f
pedicellariaeI am not a
I am a sea
spikes and venom and
but everyone seems
to call me
by the wrong name
Lonely Gods"I wish my body to be a staircase
to heaven." She said, "A conduit
of lonely Gods."Swaying
pendulum hips, she, she
was made of stardust.- Scars sleeping
above a city of sweet bones, stirring
like sun-stricken scorpions during
hollow painkiller nights,
mistaking her redred burns
for Apollos kisses.
"Sadly, this body has whispered away
the last of my secrets."
i told you a secret:
that a child with anorexia
will keep their heart small,
no matter how large
their body and mind grows.
and i told you,
about the whisper-hush
as i walked down the hall
at the age of eight,
about the cafeteria women
who were trained like dogs
to check behind each molar
for gummy bits of sandwich
and chips, only to call my mother
and say yes, she ate today--
though they never could promise
just how much.
we both hope,
with how i love,
that a heart so small
could still be strong
and tended, like that
plant at the bottom
of your stairwell
i coaxed to green again.
Stirring Arsenic into a Milky WayI'm a slave to the spirits,
Withering in the weary wind
That winds 3,000 miles to
Rest at the molten sea
Slash a scar in my star,
dousing the fire,
you an icy hiss to the flames:
memories in ashes.
Crosshatch my flames
into chambers of passioned
heat. I stirred galaxies
of twilight into the apex of winter's
Set to cool
on the window sill
staring into the solitude.
You are the drizzle that
slaps the glass with echoing words.
I'm a selenium lord who
reflects upon values stronger
than a two-sided mirror.
You collapsed upon yourself brighter
than a supernova of northern lights.
Bring me into your singularity,
Cygnus, and don't let go.
If we are to become the debris of light
then why not go into