am i a tree?

am i a treebetween the earthfledembraced a dying thronefathered in my blood,stalked and eatenby the moon’s brigade,a kiss to the sun; a finger in the rainto la moon, i see I, and if the rosesaxethe tree,would I have dreamed of this,i woudn’t know © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

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under any flower.

this is not a letter to myself quickly the moon is forever i say that sometimes these ghost fingers reach             to wind the strings and twist the whitecaps upon the bridge; i sit at midnight famous blue raincoat on my lips, a thunder squirms             into my body of stone voice nothing, where I […]

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Death is no sailor.

A voice of an ancestressfrom slightest memory, I, my ghosts on branches of April,like mice, we speak; between fingers of solace-drunkin the hills I found a voicebroken through my body, the sucking of black dressesin the wind, trees swoopingfour bones holding each other,we are holding hands, emerged a moon-maidenslack against my skull—trees mix in bloodshot […]

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still there.

This the sea, their shadows in madcap deaths; where is the garden beyond the moon, which leaves a ghost that I once knew as myself? I sway between finger and root; small hands desert me in memory free, I am not the skinof your lip, tree,and I am not looking now to be dead and […]

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moonglow.

Swaying 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 […]

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I moved in the effervesce of the sea. (Prose)

It 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 […]

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Medusa.

O 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 […]

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Faces.

Death’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, […]

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castles of sands.

I 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 […]

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In mind.

catalpa, 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 […]

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The Chamber Magazine Rises Again

Yes, I am once again opening up The Chamber Magazine. Click on the photo or the link to go to its revamped homepage. Check out the submissions page … The Chamber Magazine Rises Again

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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 in anamnesis of the womb,our cerise, skins to the lemon moonand velvet landscapes in the […]

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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’ […]

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Some.

Fossils in our bed, furculain throat, splayed a drowninglest we know; ancient hibernations anamnesis ribcaged rigor mortis yawning; poisoned wavesbeneath the creel and sects ofour darkened sleep zeppelinson triptych plains; a fear of waterand people; the surf rattlesin damp winter. pet virusdrunk, jumps on each leglike around the skullof a tree; we chokeon wishbones, we […]

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Insomniacidal (Ft. GG).

red moon’speculiar night climbing a cricket eye;Lazarus the dead, fingers of the mooncolder than the dust of a poetI leave to hide my wind-wept ghosts, and plead to the shattering in star-deathto star-death; I fall,dying,broken off the sporelike mold. a charred moon’s vining velvets winding around the stem of a crystalflute, a wasted land, the […]

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truly, I’m not.

to reapupon my shyness, winter’s bustsails the moon-eyewith an apparition garden,I gather by the inglenook; I’m a hermit,I billow poetries dark, in the first treethat would seem to thinkI am all these things, but truly, I’m not. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Written for the dVerse prompt: Write a quadrille that includes the word, […]

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“Warehouses and All” by Phil Slattery.

I met the world-weary expatriate American at a garden party in Egypt in ’89, several months after he had left the Somali oilfields. He remembered that outside his barracks near Mogadishu there had been warehouses full of rice donated by foreign charities to combat the perpetual famine. The impoverished, inept government had no trucks to […]

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if I were

Reading what I have just written, I now believe that if I were to die, I will not remember any of the words I have written, nor the words I have read, how shall I tell it? The tree itself will live far longer than I. It is lovelorn, it is the red pine that […]

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All Poetry Contest (Ends December 3rd, 2020).

Hello everyone. I am currently hosting a contest through All Poetry, and it is centered around writing poetry inspired by Wallace Stevens. This is the first poetry contest I am doing through there and if anyone would like to participate, you must submit your entry through All Poetry. The contest ends on December 3rd, 2020 […]

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and the people floated away.

A red boudoir in the earth’s ax to bruit upon her branches leaving in skull-white redress, neck covered in frost; shyness is halved in father’s seed from his to his daughter; in the cherry tree slaught with black doves arched in mad gaze, the fire flower from firethorns strayed like ossification in a pomegranate womb, […]

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