red moon’s
peculiar night climbing a cricket eye;
Lazarus the dead, fingers of the moon
colder than the dust of a poet
I leave to hide my wind-wept ghosts,

and plead to the shattering in star-death
to star-death; I fall,
dying,
broken off the spore
like mold.

a charred moon's vining 
velvets winding 
around the stem 
of a crystal
flute, 
 
a wasted land, the headless
scan seeds raped 
 
the outsides frosted 
on love's eyes, 
 
please peel the 
crickets from 
this bed of 
off white lies
 
like I tried, 
 
then go Lazarus the dead
resting from their 
tinder boxes
and give me back 
my head before 
the bullet  
holes  
 
and i feigned 
self-control, 
 
+++
 
find refuge in  
a dead tree, 
 
the after-breath of a 
star, dissolution, 
 
in disunity, fangs 
deep in womb's 
darker fruits, 

+++
 
take me away, let 
me breathe 
alone, 
 
trust i'll float in  
a storm's
dust, 
 
the infant midst night's 
wiser stars, i'll meet  
you wherever  
you are. 

++++

undress my undead
bones,
insomniacidal, in 
voice tone
tragic, is it not, in
the ossification of 
mother’s 
womb 
  
and stirs of despair, 
conjure nothing 
but a dream?  
 
Ghosts of lovelorn, 
prophets, 
 
incinerate me in a
tomb of your 
Lazarus 
eyes,  
 
and you, you can take  
the head out of 
my mind;  
 
and in my dreams, take 
the child, I was her, ever chasing her 
for touch.
  
dissolving in threat 
of a bloody  
moon, 
 
unphased, 
 
chew the scent of the 
ethereal abyss  
waiting,

in our duplicity,
have we lost
our minds instead? 

I don’t know:
a dead fool is 
better than gold.

Dust motes meet
the dead ghosts;
our oasis drowns
 
and in whispered breath, 
I see the autumn lichen  
swirl into fresh 
cocktail of  
winter 
 
with a candle path
lit to the 
stars.

 © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved and Grumpy Gorman (GG). 

A poem collaboration between me and Grumpy Gorman (he’s not grumpy—he just wants you to think that). We worked on it for awhile, writing, rewriting each other’s lines and adding to them as well.

Hope you could enjoy our work. Also be sure to check out GG’s poetry, he’s an artist with words and it was an absolute honor working with him.

Categories: Prose

Tags: Death, Fantasy, Fiction, Free-Verse, Grief, Literature, Poetry, Prose-Poetry, Writing