Tag: Grief

Visual Verse Publication.

My piece, “I leave in a deeper silence” was published in Visual Verse for their current chapter. This is my first publication with them. It is written under my main pseudonym, and you can read the poem here. My utmost gratitude and thanks to Visual Verse for accepting my piece. More so, be sure to check their anthology out as it’s still ongoing. Thoughts … Read More Visual Verse Publication.

once a tree stood.

tread for days      blood pours in a drowning      diving into oceans. A murmur      in the stillness of the sea absent in the lunula white, weeping in the dying of the eventide      may you decide to leave as the crawfish float in unyielding waters,      delusional, still seeking the innocence of the rock, give it a kiss for me           before … Read More once a tree stood.

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 fall together as we once had, the very shock … Read More Planetary motion.

of memory.

I am dream-bound      to the weeping mother of an ocean shore, my shadow is darker      than the prose tree of mind and desire           a prospect of inner lunacy and death;      the clam’s mouth is lighter between the sun, into the silence of blue willows      to the inmost bones of creation           alone brimming in the mystic moonlight      for … Read More of memory.

death in the ocean.

Death in the ocean only comes once upon the prose tree in my mind, there is a darkness in the lithe stillness of autumn oaks now gone,                as olive flowers; a fantasy heartless in horizon by Rome hills, a sea of loss      is what we lost before to the ebbing across the fight of mind, let it turn away and leave;      … Read More death in the ocean.

A sea becomes.

Of one memory, one for the end of the dark does not lie, I will not lie in it; darkness perfused I shut the window; here he bleeds, here he lies, though nothing is there. In furrows, mercy, it is laughable. The Earth succinct in waves in a lonely larva the dead poet’s dreams. Stand under my umbrella, we embrace in impassioned poverty of … Read More A sea becomes.

no promises.

         The sea and mind in gelid movement acquiesces to the euphoria           in the distant laughter      of gradual woven lines of darkness; let it die a thought in the consciousness of bare winter      after dark and dark a derangement in the cold      falls inside glistening      we’re hiding in the silence; I hide within my mind. No promises of mine      … Read More no promises.

a dream that wasn’t mine.

If ever I were to meetthe dream by sea-green eyesas they sleep, a beveled glassyet a reverie, I would imposeupon those that leftin the legs of wombto a leave-taking of melancholyas death alone drownsas the darkened sunset drowns. A sway of dark weeps,the ocean bleeds in the lithe rockswaddled at the surfdebased into what is leftthat cannot die,It was a dream that wasn’t mine. … Read More a dream that wasn’t mine.

My Monster.

In a dream be it my monster in the eyrie of leave-taking be it my death for the throes into the sea; my monster in the dark lassitude unsure but illuminated in which there is the torpid leg of maple sap warmed with hisses of the sea; my monster through branches befalls me.

Flowers for you.

flowers for you bursting like a ghost; red and white violets that were in a market shop your eyes hunted them and they were yours; as the street calls out in loneliness the telephone replays with your voice engraved in a blue marble vase by the sea gone.

Grandfather. (Prose)

Sometimes I wonder who you were, what kind of person you were. You were my father’s father. You are dust now. You are in the death of an ocean well.  This glow like an oil lamp through my window as I write on the anointed page, I thought of you tonight; a star-still night that moves enraged shores on a pioneer of darkness. You … Read More Grandfather. (Prose)

I left.

Left like the waves to death alone they would in velveteen legs of the sea be on the stillness of father’s ankle; a withering of loneliness I mourn in the tree I fell.