Silent to my blood.

silent to my blood along the bone garden I have known the women, living and dead, eyes seized the one moon, (a ghost sleeps) in my body dissociating a star at my spring bones my garden, my home a sparse death in my hair the wind. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

Three Raven.

God’s moon, leavetakingfrom the garden, the wildling from its fruitI’ve killed; like the moon without its stalkedwinters, I cannot behold reconciliationof two silhouettes; the phone-line I cutstill lures my name. in the echoes of the orange orchard,perfumed in late air, eyes known the moon;this stone willnot vanish, I could thoughinto disconnection, knowing thenof gods writhing [...]

eyes of the lagoon.

Father of gunmetal, fingers and sap kneeling to the blood-red of our faces from my formaldehyde Grandfather, in the black elms, a crown of sun pencils on white skin, now the eyes I find of the lagoon were treed in artichoke; father’s eyes are mine, the shore is from the foolish matriarch, babushka’s daughter and [...]

Modernities.

isolate the modernities  carnations touch the wind, mocking them, like a cigarette in the abandoned sunlight, the entropy, monstering god-like shores fragmenting ends of the mind, traversing the watery rock for the sea, the mouth left behind from the cave, teeming with blood; the mountain defines the reflection in your eyes, where have you been? [...]

Planetary motion.

Wept in the death of Gods, darker still in the gathering ocean, with only tears that fall to them, in the red hyssop of the frost inclined to the penetralium of desire, as the ocean slips no fate by its sea song to kill empty, the abscission of leaf falls like glass we could not [...]

Man of war (Draft).

stalk the ankles in the feast and death of the earth, man of war treetop ghost; the moon shines onto your bones drinking the falling of every fury and kingdoms of blood into the ghost egg to root a shape like a python eye while fingers lie in the comets, where to find a universe [...]

to in a dream.

has died, beautiful dreamer; the sea is a language of loneliness, legs struck in the waves to the break of oaks and I finally arrived to the holes in the ocean, to in a dream I’ve left behind. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. A/N: Written in response to the Go Dog Go Cafe’s prompt: [...]

into loneliness.

I broke away from the ocean, in through our eyes, the waves at high tides, the roccia parts and splits where Moses split the Red Sea. In the womb of wind,           limbs and bones outline the fading star,      and the world seemed to drown in yellow velleities of loneliness. Eyes to the dream, [...]

te amo.

A temblor, a rock by which is drawn together by the little tree in arms of darkness           May darkness;                in the blue perch of the eve,                      to sleep in the burial                           of the star, A leaf falls      pooled on its legs; ersatz silence           in a mind with a hole [...]

His eyes.

Leopard’s paws white like scolecite stones faceted to fingernails to the death of the wild, a resemblance to a beast, a blaze of light, and to the gods, their hand in life and death; feral blood, extinction, a feeling of a dream in crystal architect reading the skylight, gathering life in the leaves during the [...]

“The Box” by Kimberly Ray.

“This friendship will self-destruct when you open that box,” Katie says as she hands me a box and waits for a response. I wonder what this means, what is so important in this little box. Do I dare open it? I don’t want to lose her as a friend. We’ve been through a lot together: [...]

Mother.

A/N: This poem is dedicated to my mother, along with this instrumental I created to go along with it. I am adjunct to birth and death. Undraped, I emerge from womb—a pupa I barely cried, it was a spring birthday when it should have been an aqueous summer dream. Sense flees me before the world even [...]

Poem Collaboration! (Closed).

Hello everyone. First of all, I want to thank each and everyone one of you for your participation on my blog—through each like, comment, reblog, and submission—it has not been unnoticed. I thank everyone for giving me the encouragement to keep writing and posting, along with helping me keep this blog alive. I thought I [...]

Traces by the horizon.

Winter falls away, traces never ending like the tattered twilight  alone; the serpent’s blood  betrays the sea of lovers that fall upon the memory one by one. In blue wailing of the sea glare white diffused with ivory bone meeting the whisper of cold silence, the exile of our ghosts, the depth of language when [...]

mauvaises terres.

mauvaises terres. I. The Old Line. We drink red tea in the winter and summer by the pale, ocean shore with rain feeding on the sunlight with coffee beans, and spoke in broken languages to each other originating from your father in different countries of Europe, he speaks almost a dozen languages. You wished he [...]

Acedia.

One memory death has fallen like the decayed fruit; the shores have frozen, and our bones are shivering dark-blue; a shadowy world with beauty as it faded there is no promise under the oak tree nor the wilderness of the flowers nor the maples on lashed dead rocks there is no promise for me or [...]