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… Read More I
my own deathvineyards of moons,a shallow depthof the sea, Venus sinks,I drowned and criedin my sleep, died like the ocean,born in splitminds,like the magentaof mother’s womb; a vortex of nothingfair and bonyfor the ghostof mine does not grieve these amputations of mind;absence of the moon’s bare-bones, I see the lizard limbsof the moonrise as I… Read More Five A.M.
death / split bone / a fish vomits / dream; heir or heiress, the yellow trees are fatherless; I remember the troubadour trees and their infant skeletons his blood to each leaf no seduction of the moon when there was no moon to run the drumming of tree molars and the caw of moon-eyed birds,… Read More street art
sea foam / moonrise / troughs of white petals / revivalist skulls of breath from a blistered wind / I lied on the floor / the window had twig elbows / the ancient fall, I bled white like the ants on the window-ledge. I tire; tree fingers tie their umbilical cords onto the late birds;… Read More two of the sea.
in a ghost of the moon; archaic dreams cross the ocean; idled mind the hawthorn spume and Earth’s red moon, estranged to the headstone fare to ash-heaps and dissociation down the bones of beanstalk and the ghost, the moon, reddened mirrors of ourselves to feet of God, light lies to paralyze the Earth, an insect… Read More earth’s red.
a foot, a foot eddies in the water; an albatross is glued to the sea with dark littered eyes and the keel sea swallows its feathers in the furrow of air, mouthfuls of offal red, red they eye, then eat; then the womb in cold echoers echoers of blood, blood sleep such a last trawling… Read More trees and trees.
evolve e v o l v e the lithology of the cortex and the humanity of posy flowers like bones, we are nothing if not to the sea standing alone to dissolve it is lost to I, as to my mind and the Iliad of fate, the planetary motion and the blue iris petaled onto… Read More who are we?
the shadows cover the sands, each finger in my hand threads liana coast blue the bodies of ephemeral god’s eye; my father holds my hand by the rope of the bridge; it, in a sense, is remote to me as a child; in memory, it architects a mist in mind, orange… Read More Bridge.
