Fire flowerscurl their toes underthe snakes in my chest “petaled girl”for eyesand their liars underthe midnightred and dark litheof the moonglow,molesting but dissociatingarresting and death-shaming to this bodyand mouth alone. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Read Moreseafarer,I’ve lived on the leafstalkand moon-groves, beforeI peeled back my mind winter is cold-bloodedI hatch from the twiggyrose in frozen veins in the sanctum of the treessplit in the sun-moon, our bonesshe crawls like the moon © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Read Morebreasts upon a kumquatsundown from the pied-piperin the woman’s moon, I’ve seen before I can’t even recognizewhen I rise fromthe hot sununtil a dream takesthe land in sultry menace upon the fire-flower’smouth to kiss. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Read MoreLetters to Jupiter is an upcoming poetry book by Lotte Jean with Magnolia Press, which is a small publisher that publishes short stories, fiction, and fantasy. Jean’s book focuses on the different aspects of self-destruction, self-creation, love, independence and spirituality. As per the synopsis, it is “written by an unknown narrator seeking to let go […]
Read MoreOriginally posted on Nexus of Writers:
I can’t escape It’s everywhere It’s part of me The pain resides Within my heart The pounding of The monotone keys I can’t hear My own heart It’s drowned out How is it that The whisper is Only heard by you?
I spinupon the lapissea, a foola vulturous moon which a woman bruitsher blood and lipsto the moon’s rise as it seesthe first language in ashes of god,I borrow the ring from the eucalyptusand throw it into Neptune. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Read MoreA sun recoils to the grown treeclimbing my skin, then vanishingbetween the moon and death’s stigmata, a midnightstarless to the placenta back to the moon’swho was first stillbut then stares as if a daughter I am not LazarusI do not rise. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Read Morei want to feel connected to Mother Earth –wet, black soil after torrential rainsswaying tree boughs that yearn toembrace me like old grandmaswith calloused hands &toothless smiles i want it so much, yeti feel nothing –only dullness where the earthis another distorted channelon so many screensdivorced from the pulsating groundof my ancestors For further work, […]
Read MoreSwaying in cool rootsof white, I feed the earthfrom my hands and bones;the moonglow on my skin rootsI am a tree of the debrisI eat the leaves in backdrops of the sun’sbuzz; rain does nothingto me. Between stem and finger,I desert you like a mosaic of bones. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. I was […]
Read MoreIt would always end this way. The onslaught of the cold bites in my face raking silence to the foreshore to the leave-taking of winter pleas with sorrow and penances alone That trace abandoned into neurological thoughts, into weaves of ice that coalesces the ambrosial sunset (in which that dies) in father’s sea. It transmits […]
Read MoreO she is a Sweeney dreamfrom dead ghosts into winter’s fast,beckoning duplicity Give me a danceto breathe in bloodline’s nursed moando not stare, darling Medusa, my distress,teeth slaught in seawater, howlingin waves as I dream and I billow from the earth. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Written for the dVerse prompt: “Let us write […]
Read MoreDeath’s weir from the mammoth faces we know, spuming dead ghosts into the sea. My mistress winter feasts her bones, to starve on the tongues of a storm; lips of Janus will part like Eve to the python’s words; o’ then in innocence who else if then would have a rib torn to kill Loneliness, […]
Read Morethe sea barrows in half-cigarettes, burnt in untombedwords, as I spin liesto the dust father made before I left to my ghosts atop the tearsunder the moon. Soon, soon I will lay among the stead, the fleshpulled back to its sanctum of blood; the grave cavelike a hood made of white petals atethe sun and […]
Read MoreOur morning view: the burnt and bright andhaze of last night’s burning sage. No time towaft, so nibble the remnants of the fastfood and get in the truck: we’re heading East.We doze through Utah sulfur, wax Fitzgeraldthrough Lovelock: Now there is a woman!But we’re closer to Gethsemane thanthe Riviera: stuck on the tracks inWyoming, axel […]
Read MoreThe death of the handthat is upset,it’s like the yellow hillsamid the oceanid-eyedthat hunt for the ghoststhey want to strangle; I was traced beside the clocka ship of bloodin our arms; the root-childcriss-crossed to the mirror; In a sea I go downwhispering in slight darkthink I am a snowballin hell; I am a barbed leafin […]
Read MoreI knelt down of dreams, of seas for reaping digits against the tree-barkin absence of the moon’s tongueof Janus—sprawled out to thewails of shyness; father of bones,do not come back for me. yet I hide from my dead ghosts as they abandon me to the streamblood-relenting to the tides,idled upon the roots of a shyness […]
Read Morecatalpa, heart-shaped and boneyyour daddy died years ago,in redress of his mind, where I leavemy fingers on the stone,and I’ll never see him, he is just a rockhe is just a worm;you’ve been in my mindbut never knew me,I tire; deathis half the stradivarius of the birdsand their strings of gutthan it is mystifying orinboundto […]
Read MoreLoss, vanishing, the death of allThat is one and whole in my lifeDestruction, bliss, primordial envyingLife is like a kaleidoscope of phantasmagoricSilhouettes, pretty girls dancing withDevils and elves joined hands withSentient sunflowers, bliss, bliss In the truest suffering, but how?How can I win on a boardPlayed by mythic JokersTrading cosmic castrationFor a satyr’s joy? A […]
Read MoreI, 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 […]
Read Moreall 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 in anamnesis of the womb,our cerise, skins to the lemon moonand velvet landscapes in the […]
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