wings on a beast.

lost in the highway,
a delicate form
becomes entrapped
by the weight of wind,
a slow hurricane
in the speed of sight.
caught, two wings
of blurred color,
repressed beauty,
a creatures body,
intact with teeth
and little legs.
frozen by the moment,
the fast energy working,
how do we come here?

wildflower desert.

how does a cactus flower grow
wings on a bird,
and seep warm color,
into the burning sand?

when the nectar foams
slowly off the hills,
the landscape becomes
a sweet marigold orange,
painted with flickers
of the tangent sun.

the golden dawn
mimics life in every form,
lavender lit cacti
upon pink flamed poison roses,
over grown
from the mouths
of a delicate beast,
cut with curious fruits.

where the wild berries drip,
hung from leaves
of prickly desert peaches,
fairy maidens collect
the falling saccharine,
all the bees
and little creatures
drink from life,
every bit
joy,
transcending,
moments
at a time.

this chaos is truth.

this groundless-ness is beautiful and i am absolutely ecstatic in knowing that i don't know anything about love.

(picture taken from random google search)

The Cell.

i imagine the cup she drank from

covered with red lipstick,

the smell of summer,

a damsel in soft dresses,

worn with the color, broken.

i imagine little birds,

parading in the tree tops,

better worlds than this one,

leaves that make

impermeable nest,

like the womb of a beast.

i imagine, soaked in glass,

heavy mold and smoke,

collecting at the bottom

of my unconscious,

the well filled

to the brim with

metallic clouds.

How is there no I in you,

when i speak to the shallow air,

words

that become every part

of the entire cell,

cascade.

i imagine the ego,

filtered through water,

unstoppable mass,

glowing like urgency,

split electrical wire,

crackling.

Do I make sense now?

with the tongue that

slowly dissolves,

the wet membrane

of a pumping heart.

the roots of love.

where do they grow, these roots of love? i try to imagine them, in my spine, healing where the pain collects. i have no recognition of where to put it, or what the shape may be. is it light? does it float like energy? does it have hands? does it form wings? in my unconscious, where the light bears witness, i am too much thought, how do i become? my love i thought, i gave. i found that in my own form, the love i never gave myself. now i ask to become of something that never was.

is love a seed?
where in the black moist earth,
grows roots,
claws digging deep
into the deposits,
until all darkness bears light and grows wings.

She will save me from a burnt mouth. Her hands formed images in the air. The thin condensation forming around the eyelash. I see images move in the dark, still by the site of fancy blood lines.

matters of love.

these matters of love have no place here. like a page, i am empty, and there are no words to write. how often does emptiness on a page feel like the tide? in my mind, i am with the ocean. the sun is immediate and always setting, all along the pink morning mist. i go to the border, where sediments remain of the turquoise shells, abandoned suitcase on the shore. i seem to have left myself there.

a cup of sweet licorice.

i come home to a solitary cup of tea, my mothers garden that had been destroyed, rumors in my mind of all seeds that need to be tended. i drank and tried to write, but sometimes the bitter loneliness is enough. i enjoy the calm. no question of presence or pretense, for i am only with myself. i enjoy the warm heat my body gives out when it tends it's own garden. i feel like soil, the heavy wet smell of dirt and minerals from a dead sea. there is only death here, the flowers that have been ravaged, purple blood mouths, their fallen pedals wounded, my mothers heart sinking below ground, the echoes belt louder, my heart lives under that ground. the sea-goddess will tend our black seeds, sew our mistaken love, bring to us the gifts from the ebbing moon waters. i will speak their tongues, a gift no one bears, of the silver icey ash that liquid volcanoes burst into air.
how my mind falters, on the edge, it remembers mountains and slips off them. how time condones such trepidations. my friends all live along the sea, we are farther and farther away from the crossing ocean, and my love ran away with the moon. how to we bear such longing, the garden that got taken back into the earth, the moon that slipped into the black sea, the dead earth trotting on spent love.
i'll keep in my imagination the smell of red amber, burnt rust, the milky blue waters that sea and earth form. red poison dripping from the oak tree, my heart does not respond, i am mute, awaiting the ether to settle me.

The Victory.

Damn the Pirates,

and all their cities,

burning dilapidates ,

on the skin of a fruit.

Damn, the Black Irises,

the ship that built 

Empire, despair, despair.

Holy, until necessary.

Hold me, hold me.

The dragon queen,

silk serpent, panting,

to the rich smell

of the whiskey breathe,

more, more, more.

Her heart in the hands

of a floozy.

Dame, sugared upon rising,

split lips, cigarettes, 

the men dashing.

Oh, the honor, 

of the victory!

The Pyre - Lyrics

dense grapple,
sticking to my teeth,
"here's to the hill on the chapel,
wedding gowns, scaffold,
flowers for the pyre."

we play our love
on victory,
so what?
hung by the sword,
the funeral's a fire.

Ah, the meadow is burning.
Oh no, the people skipping,
dashing
to the silver beat
of the moon,
mo-oo-oon. mooooon. moon by the night on the river of the fire.

taste your lips,
are they not salty?
after the fact,
smooth cannibal,
spit on the mouth
of a black lambed wolf.

you have no hands for me,
your virtue does me no good,
takes my pleasures,
for the thrill of pain.
count my measure,
with the cupid flame.

Pull me, black nausea,
i'm ok,
send me flowers,
on our wedding day.

black seed.

how could they
have made you
into flesh?
your bones
deserve dirt,
deep dug soil,
where your mind
can burn,
with all your memory.

when will the saints become,
a figure of love?
is it not time,
to turn grave lust
into stone?

my questions beckon
the call of heavenly bodies,
to wreck your mouth,
and bruise your bones,
but the dear terrain
don't move like that.

only black holes
can become,
ancient stars,
and lit reflection.

you are not that
black,
only burnt seeds,
grow on dry terrain.

heart cave.

My purple heart
is stained black,
hanging in the damp
cave of my chest,
the smoke devours
every breathing cell,
until i am fire
inside myself.

I can hear whispers,
pretended stories of
fanciful love.

I am no where to be found,
where do the rivers meet the sea?

Will the ships come for me?
Rancid men,
beckoning for fair lady's
lucid skin.

I will lay,
feverish,
with heart against stone,
pounding,
the beat of the creation
with a cave in my chest.

Upon stone black minerals,
my body composts to dirt,
I am heavy
when it rains,
through the earth,
my memory will purge.

Earth Bound.

the water is grounded,

like earth in my mouth.

i am pulling weeds 

to sew flowers,

red daffodils,

in the sand, 

that speak with 

their stomachs out.

Could you sell hydrogen

for roses?

I'd eat them still,

quiet on the ledge

of a century,

her little tongue

does move.

All the pretty

pink silverberry's

that hang,

from the womb 

on a spine,

a mothers last dream,

on the wings of a worm.

All the sea guarded soil,

set hands on wet sand,

let rip,

the poison teeth

and all of sin.

Drink poison from the well,

your white porcelain frame

will stain black golden gardens, gray.

In her dream

she becomes,

a silhouette,

a washed

along the tender,

breathing shore.

Await for me,

the angels refrain,

golden letters hung,

of pure blessed fruit.

In heaven,

can we eat

all the sweet nectar

off the silken perennial skin ?

Like bees,

our mouths will mourn,

all the hollow trees,

and fair maidens, 

in glistened dresses.

When I speak,

Immortal truth shall come,

and damnation,

like the silver moon,

will become,

an ocean for the sun.

the stranger you speak,
the stranger i become,
a whisper on paper,
like words on a leaf.

the fire.

with fingers slipping
you catch me,
i am mid-air,
balancing the act,
between presence
somewhere...

how did we meet?
upon the sacred shrine?
was it you or i
that held great fervor
in the vestal fire?

lost caves
brought shoulder to skin,
hiccuping oceans,
the sea in your eyes.

in the dawn,
the women spoke
blood red roses,
their painful lips,
and crowned gold,
as they chant
the sound of the muse,
she awaits.

burnt upon sage gardens,
made solid into silk,
daughters, breast upon breast,
spinning, milking,
in toxic in all our love,
how the torn bird weeps.

with warmth,
you embrace,
it brings me close,
to silence.