Missing You
Every occasion
that you do not occupy
is wasted on me.
Fate
We might be closer
than the stars and we might be
fools of fate, because
night after night, I dream you
into my artless embrace.
Fathomless
We are fathomless,
you edge into my currents
supple as sunlight.
We are deeper than the seas
stacked on top of each other.
The infertile sky
carries on for miles and miles
black as a fiend’s tongue.
All that I have left
is the outline of your boot
pressed against my chest.
For now I will not
wash it off, for it must serve
in place of my heart.
Love me from afar
But do not hold me akin
To the one before
Art by: Fabian Perez
She yields
To impassive streets
To effervescent alleys
The color of lit pumpkins
*
Milk pale
She paints her mouth
In suffering shades
Of scarlet
*
Brows, moon-arched
She poses demurely
Underneath
A paper umbrella
Siphoning starlight
From the sallow glow
Of orphaned dreams
*
He
Stitches
Her intimation
Into the smiling lines
Of his palms
*
Tears the color
Of mercury
He translates
Her breath
On canvas
*
She prefers
Cherry blossoms
Tissue thin hearts
Elucidating
Spring
*
Writer’s Block argh
Petulant seas press
My diaphanous heart deep
Verse from fossils traced
=
Dark and lyrical
Primordial currents sire
An alien harvest
=
Auric sky dipping
Beneath molten copper seas
Bohemian eve
=
Coquettish waves lick
The hull of a besotted boat
Sailors imbibed whole
=
Haiku for
The darkness is always right-handed, my pupil drinking
In a quixotic iris. Admonishing the light I see in shadow
Puppets, in murders, in fiendish feathers spinning, to an
Entropic earth. I walk amongst the clouds, winged ankles
Scorning the root. I am deviant, asymmetrical, a telephone cable
Unsheathed and dancing in rain. Abused by a demonic parasite if
Superstition holds. My mind growls, reality menaces a sea of
Confusion, of broken hands and fang-baring smiles. I am not
Myself, if I ever I was, I am not myself, it takes too much to
Love me, too much patience, too much repetition. The world
Will teach me uncertainty, how to drown, how to fall, but not
How to land. I will never know what is mine, this reptilian soul
Keeps shedding my hopes and dreams, this reptilian soul that
Never grows old, never wiser, and I am always new, always
Maladjusted. My language excised from the veins, from the
Bones, from the leaks, from the residue wept in hollows deep
=
The clouds drift by me
Winged ankles scorning the root
Courting anarchy
=
My language excised
From laconic residue
Wept in hollows deep
=
This is isn’t quite a Haibun but it is something lol I am in my seizure cycle again, which means the seizure frequency is way up and I am not recovering between them sufficiently to be even remotely functional. I am beyond exhausted and in a dense mental fog. After a seizure my right pupil tends to enlarge without the left so I look kind of like a psychotic cartoon. I want to apologize if I am slow or if I am not making sense when I post and/or comment or if I like without comment. If I don’t seem like myself well it is because I am not right in the head lol. I am extremely forgetful now so I may forget names or even my favorite blog’s addresses the blog roll helps me but I haven’t added everyone so please send me links if there is something you want me to read. Anyways, I want to share a weird story, a very old woman came up to me yesterday and gave me a white zucchini, she explained to me carefully that is wasn’t a cucumber and that is was delicious. She didn’t want money and since she gave me the zucchini my husband has found about $95 in random places! I wasn’t hallucinating because I have the zucchini (which others can see) and Isadora remembers the woman lol So yeah a stranger came up to me in the street and gave me a zucchini (not from a produce stand mind you, not at the grocery just randomly)
I watch the minutes
Peeling from your bloodied lips
Farewell’s copper kiss
=
I dream only of you
Of the clock’s waning gestures
Of censure and guilt
=
I emptied my hopes
Into a man that had none
Time danced by fearless
=
Pained by its passage
I slipped into the mortar
Of a self-made cell
=
I don’t want to change
To accept this fate unwished
Leave me to the stars
=
Leave me to my dreams
To my lone constellations
To a hope-spun grave
=
Shining in the dark
Like a pharos, denial
Is my only friend
=
Trauma turns to scars
That harden, I wear my bones
On the surface now
=
Seeds of nostalgia
Grow such beautiful flowers
And such bitter fruit
=
From this fragile love
An iron-scaled hatred seethes
I want to hurt you
=
To taste only grief
In your name, a monster bred,
An obsession
=
My hands prey like birds
Stripping blue worms from dry earth
To stop the hunger
=
My heart cannot bear
Your loss, the cold exodus
Of souls dividing
=
There are no masks
Left to hide beneath, my face
Through exposure cracks
=
Your China doll crushed
Inside a sterile embrace
No womb to regress
=
No heart to lie on
No warmth through which I might mend
Stiff fingers point down
=
I hate your pale face
The trenchant black digits
That cry nevermore
=
I am sorry I could not stop writing haiku!
Submission for
Down
Her harlot red mouth
Wraps around my aorta
Forcing my pulse down
=
Orange
I’m ripe and willing
Remove my chastening rind
Break me down, taste me
=
Heart line
Hold me as if yours
Stroke my heart line with your tongue
Ravish destiny
=
Recluse
Of my life a door
That offers no safe passage
I wait, closet-pressed
=
Beauty
However fragile
Beauty, such as I, possess
Summons not through flesh
But drips hot and ambrosial
From the barrel of a pen
=
Growl
You wear your brows drawn
A darkened face, in darkness kept
Cinched throat, menacing
=
Idle
The Devil’s hand rests
Inside my knotted entrails
Submissively tense
=
When I write I don’t worry about gender so the first one is written as if the writer were male
Submission for
Virtue cast aside
I am too far from Canaan
To become a star
=
Heaven shrinks and swells
Depending on the angle
Of my intentions
=
Blurry Monet sky
Braided chains unraveling
Blinding pirouettes
=
I summon the wind
Sunburnt thighs pumping madly
Icarus’ first flight
=
You stand nonchalant
In the seat of a worn swing
Swaying my resolve
=
On a wooden plank
I sail above elvish trees
Queen of the forest
=
When I was a kid my dad sent me to day camp to learn how to make Native American pottery the swing set was in a clearing in the woods so I used to imagine the trees were my minions when I was swinging
Submission for
Vapor wings emerge
Incense-breathing dragon bred
In earthenware pot
***********
A cooling zephyr
Capsizes Genmaicha raft,
Teacup sea claims luck
**********
Mystical cadence
Affords the heart’s hollow eyes
Unclouded vision
*********
The morning air sleeps
While I daydream over a
Cup of honeyed tea
**********
(then I took a dark turn)
In his eyes the eve,
The madness of laughing clouds
And rainbow puddles
=
The streets are his veins
His slick asphalt dreams, escape
Heroin highways
=
Submission for
mindlovemisery 