our ghosts.

our ghosts accompany loneliness… mirrors of distant memory      find to the dusk like at sea      a memento in a dream      that eludes me and floats…      Orange blossoms into Ophelia’s violets and the granitic rocks      rush to the red dust for how quietly time has passed  through the statuary of rock… Read More our ghosts.

“My Symphony of Angelical Pain” by Benyin.

Then, was enslaved in your sheathin a bosom of appearing angelic roars;hosting daringly with perfectlygroomed verses, ofyour patterns of inflictionsUnfold me; mold me!I am available for yourdesiring wraths.Untame me, hold me,I am yearning whollyto see your demogorgonsSuspended in waves I shook my petalsbrightly fair to raid your waging pedalsConsole my hungerto behold in your slumberConsole… Read More “My Symphony of Angelical Pain” by Benyin.

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… Read More te amo.

They had gone.

“where the dead walked and the living were made of cardboard.”—Ezra Pound. The apparition paradise projects onto streets like death, into the turn of the mountain Forward on its side where ice fell and mingled leaf-like into the ocean In pure rhythm like a God in kinship with free tamed with the ice-cold Be it… Read More They had gone.


Keep your dead lilies, Two reared seeds. And the crisp red triste Of a cherry blossom Grows by the peas, Of the blue afterglow On the sameness of his laugh. As red wallops stifled cicada wood, The epistle chokes in the water; it’s been awhile. Scurf of a half Frost; marked their caged, primped words… Read More Half-Frost.


Light, midnight, On moorlands, summoning fate, Alone, viceroys break Every pretty tear that rises And carries wind in lone summoning fate. As scars gleam in twinkling nightfall, as they fall to rest Upon trees, a thousand feet, that dance in sunlight, And worshipped on a pretty brow, bends the river-way And worshipped on pallid rests,… Read More Viceroy.


nightfall when it’s still and ill-lit, as the moon kneels and the mist recites me a dream I fall in lowering mercy and admit as the world, unreal, and imagine the mid-stream as I fall deeper into the silent moon and I whisper into a darkened room before sleep ‘I give my words beyond the… Read More Nightfall.