Prose

Gardenia II.

Down to the blight of the moon-rise I shunned
Ether dressed in her black dress, stood a leaf left
Never gazing beyond the twirling veins
In all the flowers and the rain

Mirage.

Into a phantom sleep,
the icy dark blooms in phantasy
and it carried away to the sojourns of the past

Deep in my Heart.

betrayal, stirred by leaf
on mid-summer
on the garret, perched windows
that drifts and drifts,
rolled on a dead poet,
and flown and sowed
by the stitch, my squill.

Odalisque.

Euphoria in daddy’s hand,
a sunset thrashed, fleeting my bones
how the sun is between his fingers
eunoia is my ghost when
the daylilies dance

Solstice.

I’m sick of you, blood-fat trees. The city is predatory like your fragile mother; or god really, but who am I to judge? Solstice bless a darker planet

Nephesh.

Old father’s obit
unwanted earth in his mouth
lent the blood from his sex like moth wings drown

alter ego.

the Prometheus death fit for humankind,
take it then
take it and see how we are born,
see how we’ll die.