mirrors.

the corvid rises from the yellow moon,wept to a body of death, dismissal of its heartbeat to the atramental starsof unbidden dance; I know how this goes,I’ve been here before,slipping out of one’s own skin; it was memoirs hung by… Read More ›

Recent Posts

  • I am a ghost to you.

    death is a red coquetteon your father’s fossil armits abyss forgotten and ungrievedinto cosseted veins of poetry,but words mean nothing to you; yellow dreams wept in her darkness,and caitiff of mirrored dust, and bone consumedmoon-wept death in the waves andfingertips… Read More ›

  • à minuit

    the boney moon, dragged by hibiscus over the red hills.Your moth wings baby-rattling the drowning of the stars, the symmetry of our skeletons for asylum; the moon, she finds my darkness by the Katsura leaves. The atramental vagary of her… Read More ›

  • to grief.

    bare-bones / wed to abandoning in-uterofingers; the apple burstslike an appendix / and the seabreast to breast / is a mistressto the Kalahari sun/ mouthing /to my moon“death goes to the worms” / alien touch / my love has gone… Read More ›

  • Variant Literature Magazine Publication.

    Hello everyone. I have three published poems (“To Accede Into My Own Desires”, “Deep in my Heart”, and “Beneath”) in Variant Literature magazine, specifically in their Second Chance Anthology. My poems are credited under my pseudonym Ellie Onka. You can… Read More ›

  • Novel Collaboration (“Identify”): Chapter 7 Part II.

    She lowered her head into her hands. Her thoughts soon drifted back to Tom; what he had been through these past few days, how he killed Zargaff.

    She now understood how callous she had been after he just took a life, and not even that, he watched Zara die. Her breath hitched when she stared back at Artemis.

    She had been too impassive. Now she thought she understood.

    “Lauren?”

    Lauren felt heavy breathing against her neck, the tired limbs of Artemis lain at her sides.

  • Novel Collaboration (“Identify”): Chapter 7 Part I.

    Lauren set up a fire at the site, grabbing a couple of more logs to throw in. Tom watched at a distance as he kept looking back at the camouflaged tents in the woodlands of the island, and biting his lip, he watched as the smoke tilted into the sky as a signal.

    She caught up to him. “Let’s get the fuck out of here. I set it up, and we can leave.”

  • metaphysical.

    Metaphysical places; mirrored minds; mooring across the broken bird, maybe the Madarasz’s tiger in its mournful lone,keep the arbored madnessin her untethered womb—swaddle the nest of the tree with aneurysmed red bodies of the moon salved with fingernail lines on… Read More ›

  • “Is it only me?” by Coco.

    It’s been a decade now,Since we last saw each other.But it still hurts me to know,That you’ve moved on with another. I still remember our times together,When we talked about ‘happily ever after’.Sometimes I can’t help but wonder,Is it only… Read More ›

  • Ice dark (the world is dreaming).

    lie across the taurobolium at the motherless spring without feeling, without breath; pale mulberries infiltrate the wind in ice dark of obscured dreams by the sea-green void, vanishing by the surf, as the fresh dew slumbers in the whiteness of… Read More ›

  • nothing left.

    will I drown? the wind twists, and we kiss the flowers; seize the backbone of the root, where our blood is ours. the tree trunk can’t see death; unparalleled, my father disintegrates. the sunsets are claret as they burst. the… Read More ›

  • what to be done.

    ancestress, she is deathin Saturnidd cocoons; what to be donein imitation, magnetized of blood lotuscosseted in her veins;dead fathers are hard to talk to.Oceans writhe fox-skins of fossil, slumbers starved,and weave nigh stone to kill the daughter first. © 2020… Read More ›

  • Novel Collaboration (“Identify”): Chapter 6 Part II.

    She grappled his face. “You don’t get to say shit like that. Not after this fucked off day. You can go fuck off too if you keep saying that.”

    “I’ve never seen you so sentimental.”

    “It’s not like you’d remember,” Lauren sighed, only now feeling how sweated up her tank-top had become.

    “Ouch. Low blow.”

  • This night.

    summer, pilgrimage of the ewe; the blood sun breaks upon death— is the symmetry of the flower where an ocean throws the moon’s noose, leaving to the knot of a darker azure? dream, and you might too leave in the… Read More ›

  • I left.

    Left like the waves to death alone they would in velveteen legs of the sea be on the stillness of father’s ankle; a withering of loneliness I mourn in the tree I fell. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Reposted… Read More ›

  • she loves you.

    vanish.trade.rocks. in sanguinolent dances we tradeour flowers for knots of the moon,cracking until the leftover asylum of poetryturns and explodes in our veins, Let it be the tongue of rocks, whereserenity will kiss you in due timeand frozen fingers wed… Read More ›

  • la mausoleum

    Perfume loring, turning and hedged to the skulled moon. It was a death-sentence oneiric to the autumn. It was symbolic as the little boy put his dirty shoes on my guitar case (and I said nothing), I felt atrophy of… Read More ›

  • Novel Collaboration Update(!)

    As some may have noticed, there’s been a brief hiatus in the current novel collaboration. That does not mean it is over. Far from it, in fact. Chapter seven is now up to be claimed again, with chapter eight currently… Read More ›

  • Dead in a Minute: COVID-19 MasterClass (Review).

    Dead in a 1:00 is an emerging show hosted on Instagram that features horror shorts. These horror shorts revolve around the final few moments, or quite literally, the last minute of someone’s life. Don’t let this make you think that… Read More ›

  • dance (with me).

    all winter, their bodies of yokethe apple blossoms, like a child,waking into the sun; I see the siennarise in the kangkung flowersof your hair, the immobile, the henna; and archaic sandsin blue fibers of fields,as the moon-eyed dreamers,you and I—we’re… Read More ›

  • “Potpourri” by Ivor Steven.

    I have a visiting bluebirdStanding in my potpourri bowlBathing in aromatic leavesSinging a reverieAbout her dying treeAnd I join in, with her plea“Trees are the air we breathFeeding us food and seedNourishing land and seaPlease let us grow and breed.”… Read More ›

  • I am the thorn of flowers in your mouth*… — A Prolific Potpourri…

    I am the thorn of flowers in your mouth I am the rusty nail thrust through your heart I am the wicked laugh that tames your hide I am EVIL PERSONIFIED *thank you LUCY for such a strong line of inspiration… Read More ›

  • midnight.

    The moon is bitten / like the apple under the bleats of the corvid / the enceinte tree my pentrailium / shuts the black heart of lilies  do not find me, I want to be alone before I leave. the… Read More ›