Free Love

I am sick hence the reblogs




She arranges the doves nesting

In the folds of her paisley print skirt

Adjusts the daisy behind her left ear

And proffers an otherworldly smile

To every soul in want of intimacy


She is wild, lupine, endemic

Her pale thighs clutch my spine

As I accelerate her orbit

Around the moon

View original post


The Muse



I tape quills to the underside of each forearm

In order to simulate flight

My heart serves as both inkwell and millstone

Depending on the proximity of my muse

There is no catharsis in withdraw

Only the dissemination of sorrow

Through undignified outlets, namely

Crying when one is fearful of sleep

When in company my muse surreptitiously plucks

The numerals from every clock within visual range

That I might remain indefinite in confinement

She is the residue of every lunar passage

Since the dawn of my existence

She translates my failings into wisdom

There is no drug more permissive than poetry

View original post

Wordle #19 “Perish”


Reciprocation is an art
And I haven’t the presence
To proselytize favor.
I have always assumed myself
Insignificant though it is love
That I crave above everything
Even my own life which
Is perishable in comparison

I wanted to live in you
An unbroken vitellus,
A dandelion crown,
A clinging placenta
Possessing the scars
That you, in isolation,
Should not bare them
We were imperfect,
As only lovers
Can be

For my heart alone I hoped
That you would remain
Of this sky, dulcet and chiffon
Those halcyon days
When your cobalt eyes
Aligned to the curvature
Of my smile and held

The asphalt stretches
Beneath your sullied shadow
Bereft of weeds
My fingertips recall
The length of your bones
A fence surrounding all
That was so precious within

Was it the sleuth in me
Or the traitor in you
That abolished our union?
I could forgive anything
If I stood next to you
We were perfect, if only



I cannot talk to you
My tongue arcs up
As a knife darkened
With too much blood
And your ears like
Twin embryos, oblivious
Do not wait for consent
But drink hungrily
Of each wounded hunch

I cannot bare
The immensity
Of my constraint
But worse are those
Parasites which mingle
With the breath
And gnaw obliquely
At our hearts

Once exchanged
We cannot retrieve them
And how they grow
In number, these criticisms
Even when recalled
I hear them still
Like branches
Snapping in darkness



Adrian Borda

A misplaced word or deed

Could render your heart askance

And I would be the lesser for it.

Some believe in finality

But with age comes the routine

Of a diminished certainty

I know now why the sky

Prefers grey in adornment


I depend on the wind

To gather my illusions

And on my will to disperse them

A will that is neither

Brave nor merciful

A will that is erratic at best

I could be is all

That I have ever been

And I imagine you too

Are not as decreed on paper


Such dreams as these

Are too cruel to gift

In conversation

So it is that I keep

My wings folded beneath

A cloak of indifference


Pity me neither this oversight

Nor any concession I might make

In a moment too poignant to bare.

I have not lived in such a way

As to become known or wealthy

What I want is surely too

Abstract to elucidate.


Just as love is not assumed

Congenital in a blade of grass

No matter how sweet or vibrant

(We do not perceive in it a spirit

Beyond the mediocre triumph

Of ritualistic sustainment)

In this very way I too may be

Underestimated for my failure

To conform to assumed variables


If I indulge, I would no doubt

Spend entire days justifying

My queer existential existence

If you had my life to govern

You would ruin it

Like a linen starched until

It serves only as the parchment

Of a more prolific sentient


I do not not propose to know

Everything and indeed I claim

Very little in regards to you

Still I know better myself

My flaws effect me directly

As do my fears and virtues

And I assure you that

Their language is one only I

Can hear no matter how often

Our tongues or talons meet


Another BBQ I know what your thinking that girl has issues. I just typed up my journal scribbles from today

Photo Challenge #18 “Strings Attached”


Kiyo Murakami

I wanted then to be

Tongue-less, finger-less

That I could not speak

That you’d be left

With only my eyes

For company

And my smile swinging

Off the hinges

Like a thrown door


I don’t have youth

As an excuse anymore

The freedom to fail

Without collateral

The luxury of spare parts

Now I wait behind mirrors

Collecting reservations

Wondering if today

I’ll unravel entirely



As yellow as carbon paper
My heart darkens under
The ache of delivery
Your graphite tongue
Leaves smudges in the air
Like a sphinx or a chimney.
I often plagiarize you
Repeating your sundry riddles
To innocuous beholders
In search of a sympathizing fog

We are as contradictory as gods
Hoarding the sepia of momentum
Like amber-cast mosquitoes
Each of us running from
Something borrowed
Or someone blue

We starve on haute coutre
On a culture which has grown
As skeletal as migrating wax
Clutching fistfuls of smiles
Like sparks in search of kindling



I thought I might yield

In the womb of your presence

Catching only gists

And laughing when it suits me

Eyes confined behind

An eclipsing smile

Ears an instrument,

Like a shell

Retelling the blues

Of a misanthropic sea


I have no use

Of poems or hymns

I intend to stew in the scenery

Catching pixels as sperm

Praying that my mind

Is still fertile enough

To recompose


I’ve never cared

For templates

It’s what I feel

That’s extraordinary

The love I have

For the unseen

Which diverts mention


Sometimes I just need

To be silent

Like a barnacle sucking

With great reverence

And introspection

The beast it serves

Locked In


Do I leave you bereft

Silent and intermittent

Like a blink?

When the darkness arrives

I step forward

Sleeves rolled to the elbows

Skin stained garnet

As congealed wine

And a heart wrapped

In cotton like an arrowhead

Or a child’s tooth


My desire is brutal

But inefficient

I cannot find in you

A vacancy

You’ve filled your mouth

With sweethearts

Every word perfect

And plump

Like a newborn baby

Only I can hear

The scream

Swelling behind

Your cloistered throat


Your tears are

The sweat of my labor

If I could freeze them

I’d fashion keys

To every door

You’ve ever passed through

Knowing that you’ve

Gone too deep

And locked yourself in


I was out most of the day family BBQ. I don’t think I have ever attempted to write a poem in such a short time frame and a hectic time at that so I apologize if this doesn’t make sense or if it seems incomplete