fingers of earth lay thy lady of bones a garden of have died and have not; shan’t you take my hands? my skin, a linen from the sun weeds, we share parentheses as eyelids kiss the sleeping trees; littleness death we—the serpents we sleep with. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Read Moreskin on handlavender riseshugged by madsunsin whiteandyellow; the moonflutes the rain, abandoned byalltheflowers and the rainis deathflutteringi fear, the spine toits leaf that blows etceteraetceteraladyleafofLazarusdoes not leave © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. I tried (emphasis on tried) to do an E.E. Cummings style/format here, so if you were wondering about that, guilty as charged. […]
Read Morethis foolworld spunin cold-bloodedlady iknow you, but iof skin and bone,and i little sun,in moon gardens of her feetI am a child, i and if aside,grown toward rootsof her bones and kneesbillowing absent, fingersof May (i close the rain)to the syntax of your voice © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Read Moream 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.
Read MoreThe cave pooled on a dusty gray, its lifeless folds quietly shone, hinging to the cold darkness in the air. Intervened, footfall was prevalent and darning; she gripped onto her spear as she extended it away from her person, head merging against an animal’s snout.
Read Moreinfinite in papery moonswhy must I layunder your footin the voluptuoussea? madcaps and glassed eyes her next deathin a million moons I’ve yet to meet; god’s leavetaking, nothing left for youbut a ghost of gardens. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Reposted for the dVerse Open Link Night.
Read MoreOriginally posted on George Ellington:
The words, the power, the very syntaxof your verse delights me,says the linguist in me. The imagery flows like molten cloudsover my aging soul,cries the artist in me. Your rhythm reaches into my heartand entices me to sing,chants the musician in me. The sensuality of your voice caressesmy pulsating skin,moans…
Her fingers tracing mineLily danced me out of the gardenthose green eyes brimming livelywith purest abandonThen barefoot on the boardwalkher summer dress riding highshe leapt onto the jettyand gestured to the sky We let our tanned legs hang belowas we bottomed up the bottlethe air was hot and heavythe sea around us peacefulThere was lust […]
Read MoreMistress, bone-lacedaround my fingersmerciless as the moon-hungwith cigarette burns and stars;what I’d giveto billow smoketwirling lips throughthe telephone, a bloodbath in star or rainwinter was farand died,lady-footed with bone © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Read MoreGardenia, like death,I laugh as the moon criesto confuse the rain, midnightswims for I’d hopeI would die of dreamingas to killthe moon to give it a kiss. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Read MoreFire flowerscurl their toes underthe snakes in my chest “petaled girl”for eyesand their liars underthe midnightred and dark litheof the moonglow,molesting but dissociatingarresting and death-shaming to this bodyand mouth alone. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Read MoreI spinupon the lapissea, a foola vulturous moon which a woman bruitsher blood and lipsto the moon’s rise as it seesthe first language in ashes of god,I borrow the ring from the eucalyptusand throw it into Neptune. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Read MoreA sun recoils to the grown treeclimbing my skin, then vanishingbetween the moon and death’s stigmata, a midnightstarless to the placenta back to the moon’swho was first stillbut then stares as if a daughter I am not LazarusI do not rise. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Read MoreSwaying 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 […]
Read MoreO 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 […]
Read MoreThe death of the handthat is upset,it’s like the yellow hillsamid the oceanid-eyedthat hunt for the ghoststhey want to strangle; I was traced beside the clocka ship of bloodin our arms; the root-childcriss-crossed to the mirror; In a sea I go downwhispering in slight darkthink I am a snowballin hell; I am a barbed leafin […]
Read MoreShe hated them, but quite at times admired them for their will to live. The bond between them only got stronger and stronger the more adversities they faced together. Only Zara was able to flicker that bond for a few moments, that fucking siblings-bond.
Read MoreYes, 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
Read MoreI, 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 MoreSince the novel collaboration I have been hosting has died down a little, I figured it might be easier for potential participants to just sign up through a form, and when it’s their turn for the chapter they choose to write, I will let them know. We are currently looking for a participant to pen […]
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