à minuit

the boney moon, dragged by hibiscus over the red hills.Your moth wings baby-rattling the drowning of the stars, the symmetry of our skeletons for asylum; the moon, she finds my darkness by the Katsura leaves. The atramental vagary of her lays in my hands. psithurism, algedonic to the death strokes when she flutters, how she… Read More à minuit

Let it die.

Turn away from the resuscitations there the dream warrants the saplings, she in the lithology of life, the posies leach in mother’s touch, stands retracted in the tears from the ocean, weeping in the enchant as I feel the shame of the eventide; the last breath to the inhabited throes of the shore if swallowed… Read More Let it die.

always.

paraphernaliaflowers; the frozen nailsof Mars, lest I leavein lunula wombsto no death of our wormsand our licking wings;I’ve dreamt no morethan the coquette black rose,and her absinthe skin,wormwood, dead at our feet,to the insomniacocktails of phantasm,setting down the metaphysical poetrythrough my blood-flow, and the paraphernaliaof rocks, incubated with the skull-shapedhills; is it thenso ancient?the last… Read More always.

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… Read More This night.

autumn.

squander red rockalone the ladyand darknessto the tidesdislocate Apollo,to pares of boneswed to grief;I shatter likethe blue mooninto fall’s handsin the fingertipsof flowers that were not mine& ghost planetsand shiversreserved to thedeath of the apple,and baby’s dream. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Written for this week’s Go Dog Go Prompt: into fall’s hands.

to grief.

bare-bones / wed to abandoning in-uterofingers; the apple burstslike an appendix / and the seabreast to breast / is a mistressto the Kalahari sun/ mouthing /to my moon“death goes to the worms” / alien touch / my love has gone /threnody and dream, as if the Earth is glass /stranded / to the ghosts /of… Read More to grief.

“Humour Don’t Sell Papers” by Don Matthews.

I’ve just read today’s paper It’s full of doom and gloom Murders, killing, destruction, death Children being groomed Headlines blare out constantly SEX FIEND IS EXPOSED There’s so much negativity (The paper I have closed) Why can’t I read, enjoy myself With lots of humour, rife? Instead of being subjected to This gutter side of… Read More “Humour Don’t Sell Papers” by Don Matthews.

undo.

in starry death, dido falls like the star, an explosion to the peremptory mouths of sea; the sun bums a cigarette, we are morsels to her; i, alone, do not grieve, but dreams black and ténébreux fall to dissection of God, troglodyte & beast. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Written for the dVerse prompt:… Read More undo.

dust to dream.

dust / to the dream /flowers fall to the glass moonand her fingertips/ in the/ ephialtes /light and / cosmic touch; you tried to /ruin me / but I’m notAtë or Ares. Spume of the oceanI will not drown /you / in my threnody / war feet / burst like the applein the trench /… Read More dust to dream.