Proserpina

The blood of old idioms climb my suffering like ivy / feral words that slide from my mouth sound just like you, impersonating the vernacular of your curiosity which trigger how forcefully you squeeze your fingertips into my fossilized knees / you whispered my thighs once belonged to Proserpina I flee from your dirty hair,…

DAMOCLES.

You were born to be a Damocles. It’s in your name / you share the same snake-like entendre     you lure, into love and linger the sword of your lust, provoking strokes of luck into fire and your rotting teeth grind on spongy hearts like punch-drunk birds of prey At dusk, your hands spring into…

Some Men are Witches

Some men are witches, infected with wilderness stubble and smoke, Love that recoils when touched too deep, as if reborn from the darkness of stardust traversing under the church of provocative nomad feet, they run – some men – have spirits in their palms that lay fallen from their chest, thirteen past lives and fire…

The Leaves You Pick Off The Blackberry

He held his breath to them all. The way a bushel of blackberries suddenly appears on the side of the road after you’ve escaped from the city. You steal them by the handful, assuming they don’t belong to anyone except nature – and she owes you – from the countless times she disembodied your hungry…

I am the l o v e r.

I am the lover that will consume you whole, just as you are, filled with lies and guilt, suckling the impressions of your esoteric past your lack of future your selfish present your ugly name and all its consonants, constantly breeding atop my tongue / I paint you in cells / I am the lover…

Two Cannibals in a Blackout

I am a mirror image of what is inside you. Violence and a bullseye – subliminal sacrifices being antagonized through ticker tape and cartographs, velvet Tourette’s and phobic of reactionaries, our fingers swell in the exact same way when our blood pressures rise and we sweat the same nonsense which makes our pores smell alike…

Four Nicknames and a Uterus

Desi wiped sweat all over the front of his white shirt as I scream about how hot the pavement is – and he hates it – the word pavement. It reminds him of being in his 20’s, when the woman he loved fucked their mutual friend in their home in their bed more than once….

Post and Rail

I had a dream we were strangers,          a dream we were neighbors partitioned by a farm, I held my daughter and watched you through post and rail, planting flowers – your knees buried in the soil          Filled with soul and sun, sorting your grown daughters old clothes…

Henry VIII

How little do I speak – how quiet am I? I communicate in repetition but I deliver discourse in another language, my history does not connect to you and you lose the chemistry of my intention as you sleep, Sleep, every drop of alcohol in this house, Pass by me, as your ears fill with lavender…

H.M.T.H.Y.D.T.W

How many times have you died this week? Suddenly I saw it, midway down the street, seven shots of forget-me-nots bottled in his hands – I cannot convince you to delegate disaster, or divide us into two separate people, or prevent whatever is about to occur when I watch you snort electric Kool-Aid for the…