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 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Original draft: choking magnetism,dead fathers can be hard to talk to, [...]

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.”

The ocean rises.

Fossil bone, a maiden’s cliffthrowing ghosts in the stalactitesthere, my ocean is there, and I will die with the thorn in my side;abyssal shadows are empty, sandstone splits at my cheek,look at the full-bodied ocean, their fish bones belowthe memorial, from so close, I can stand upon the ocean’s bosom,her white waves upon my fingersO’ [...]

The sea girls.

peyote ripples uponmy father’s hands,I horde my poems in the melismaof my bare bones within the arboretum and the vagary of the moonshe nocturnes this feeling of death;it’s early winter and the sea girlswormhole into the seato drown; algorithmicthe mirror purports I writ my ghosts in the looking glass,this rite of amnesia, I’ll die in [...]

Sanguine.

Baby’s breath into the elm tree, a strange lady in rose heels, she is the crypt for there are no dreams; arresting, like death, to the apple--the serpent's rictus; with the body of the shore in vogue black moth wings / the moon tires to itself in half-living, half-death, the atrophy in dissolution undressed. Yes, [...]

I

I, memory, I, a membrane and ghost meronym to memory and free— I am the thorn of flowers in your mouth, and the foot of the leaf between the limbs of a small tree halved like quarters, and still dying, I, memory, I, a membrane and ghost meronym to memory and free— Ancestress of loss [...]

metaphysical.

Me reading "Metaphysical" 10.22.2020. 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 the egg, her baby. The agitation of her veinsmakes me ask [...]

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 wings,by the man’s madness; dither nowor die in memory. The moon shall forever watchas reprieved [...]

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 of black lilliesnulling marrows in epicediumof the bear’s wintered hibernationthe seasons that sail the sea-skullsof [...]

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 glass region, eyed by the ants, flourishes in the light by remembering; eyes, pressing to [...]

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 white rose of lips; sewn a monolith  exchanging, in perfidy, a child at the river [...]

she loves you.

vanish.trade.rocks. Albert Memorial, London SW7 2ET, UK. 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 in the plow of the womb,floating, innocent of madness, [...]

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 either the red koi flowers or the moon and I drowned to the moon herselflike [...]