Perfect

IMG_20200319_095710968

If only I were extraordinary,
evident, a force of nature,
unlike anyone
you had ever witnessed
then you might face me
limbs askew,
heart split into a grin,
margins broadening
beneath the combined weight
of our souls in perfect alignment.

Did not have the chance to finish anything tonight alas!

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Wordle #165

1652

There’s a pit where my spine

Used to be, a concavity absent

All the usual impositions.

The stiffest drink is a meager

Approximation for vim and valor

And nothing repulses more

Than the uncanny valley

Of total inebriation, the emptiness,

The almost endearments,

The flailing excuses for an utter lack

Of quantifiable fortune.

My chest is full of half-eaten sixes

And the rubble of unlit chimneys.

Face first in a porcelain muzzle

I revisit my life, my habits, the cliffs

Both surmounted and impassible

Straining to hear a whistle

That will summon me

From the rip in both heart and gut.

I have drilled into this ache

Split the doors and windows

As if they were constellations

Woven of papery refuse.

I have dreamed of finding love

Despite flaccid instigation.

I have wished for many things

But I have managed only

To pass the time.

Theremin

Dreamers Meeting

Duy Huynh

I could have forgiven transparency

A dagger thrust into the anterior

Without the conceit of friendship

But that we should pass as strangers

And that you should behave so strangely

In my presence as if to refute it

Strips my bones all curative measure

Of what use this heart if only to bleed?

Of what use these hands when tethered?

 

The decadence of my prevaricating youth

Jars me into submission

The acquisition of anxious soldiers

Defecting into subterranean sunsets

At the first sign of commencement

Pray another man’s face

Does not disguise a jaundiced interior

Pray that I do not cancel one war

Only to embellish the next

 

My soul aches as a theremin

Consciously unconscious

Your fingers steeped in my aura

Attach themselves as parapets

To sleep now is to dream vicariously

Your withering contraband

*

What a day! I had kids over all day and while Isadora was at school I baked double chocolate chip cookies for the occasion. I am so tired! The above poem has absolutely nothing to do with this except to say that I wrote it in some sort of stupor lol

PHOTO CHALLENGE #13 “THREE”

longWalkDetailsTom Bagshaw

When I was a child

My eyes saw only

That which my heart

Could freely replicate

A truth tenaciously insular

In each wound divinity

Every soul amendable

Salt fell freely

In the excavation

Of pearls

Even when downtrodden

Hope gathered unseen

 

When I was an adolescent

I thought myself an expert

On human nature

I knew the misgivings of saints

The black mask of the hero

Who craves blood and nepenthe

In equivalent measure

I paraded myself as a sage

Eyes a platform

For causes unknown

 

As a woman I lose at times

My confidence in humanity

I find conspiracies burgeoning

From the most inane protests

There’s too much death within

A stars ejaculate for my dreams

To ignite on wishes alone

And I resent most of all

My profound cowardice

*

Today I found it very challenging to write