This collaboration project will be centered around creating a group novel. Now, this project may go on for a lengthy period of time. Hiatuses are to be expected, which is why I will be reposting chapters to gather interest. This is also a note of caution that if you reblog such post, the link will… Read More Novel Collaboration (“Identify”): Chapter One.
A deep sleep in winter’s canyon turned away to the solitary dream— where it is systematic before a silence of grief; the canticle is seen through other eyes, not mine, and I don’t understand a word, whispers press unmourned in your eyes, the trace of winter hungry in different hungers despite the reverence of red… Read More solitary dream.
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,… Read More into loneliness.
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.
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.
Stare at the ceiling, I am an afterthought, dreams cast forgotten memories in twilight’s tongue rivaling alone the silence of the world that pretends to be still, when it’s fucking not; I wake in the room alone, I intend to sleep; in weakness, the oeuvre is loneliness as it slips bloodily on begotten words undefined… Read More Forgotten (to silence).
tyranny blinded by the ghost of an isthmus, dark eyes fed upon your laugh like a poison to surge, the chill when you look at me; the dust of the horizon shapes cruelty. Reaped in the quiet like a violent beast as solitude precedes covering the ashes blistering on the pale shore this void of… Read More Tyranny.
Of the April wind the distant perdu world, persists with the evening sea shore conducts in sleep the phase of light. There is no sun. There are no wings in the abyss with black fruit, beautified in the sacrificial breath. Fall, fall. Amnesiac in the… Read More Amnesiac.
I am from wheat strips Of bread, and porch lights with fog on week mornings; I am from the mind world That restores dust at every Naked warm eye That blood rose On paper-cuts; I am from banana seeds, And reddened arches, Distorted music, Collected into one Starvation of abstract Speech—I am from the pressing of… Read More I am from broken images from my mind.
Lost In the cracks of the ceiling The shadows outline At night in silence The windows that raid You to look at them, Betrayed in solemnity; Waiting for the hesitant Breath Beneath hidden light In disposable silence. © 2019 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
For the present, memory is rattled by the sorrel sobs that do not quell from my bleeding lips And I, now enclosed, in the flowers and darkened furnaces that blemished on my pale skin, I do not know, nor do I remember, but it is through the ashes in my weary palms, On the ghoul… Read More In The Stars.
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.
I. Perfume loring, turning, hedged to the twitching, to the crying moon like sutler, silk drowns muses flesh and bone, stitches on fatty quilts, wanting warmth, muttering, muttering through whispers, begged by praying hands, I hate this place. Promise like a shadow pecked against the incant, restores like Lazarus. Crypts cites damaged; Similar to la… Read More Perfume Loring…. (Prose)
Pennies and old skeletal-like lining threads slip out from the rafters of the grey old well in the mall—search in for the coin, fiddle with it, the dirt croaks under nails, like the bridal hem that touches the base of the floral steps, patterned by the picturesque; rib of man; “leave a stone at my… Read More A Night Walk. (Prose)
At the flares of rivers, flames crackle studded and dead when they withdraw from the cold. The darkness recedes over the bejeweled haycocks crying, as my torrent of blood flourishes like a blue weeping violet, rock-strewn to the near hill-side at midnight; I pardoned myself to the wall flowers as the wind vanishes above the… Read More I’ll Keep. (Prose)
An ale river Between the mountains Reels by holy mist. Dead in the Eden, The land, the land, Screaming on the Aragon valley, “Beyond fragile lips Of a bleeding, tormented river, It is lost as the seashore, And is caressed by mothering wind, In the crimson river, confined by silence Which salutes the pre-winter to… Read More Firewood.
Silence, It is memory. Leaf fallen, Midnight wind, west, I said, “I’m sorry.” © 2019 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
I. The moon casts its eye, In little carts, A vaudeville into the night. II. I wake in morning River flows down Crestmore, Wounded by a psalm, expelled alone. III. Down the old university, immersed, By the cathedral with petite western virgins flowers, On revered bungalows With an old torchlight, the ruins of Rome. IV.… Read More Vaudeville (I wake as rivers run).
As the rose adorns The mourning river secedes in Yorkshire skies. I give my love to the flower of pears, In velvet array on the vineyards, A vestige in a nightly soul Passed by a little eye of the moon Darker than winston smoke. The water does flow gently Onto a ballad of the dark… Read More As I Mourn a Flower.
The moon rises above the flimsy bough, As the stream ends Into a whispered ire on torrid diamonds I see the death of forgotten winds stowed As the river bends And I whisper to the descent of… this darkened night chastened. I whisper into my hands of this creased moon That abandons the lights And… Read More The Moon Rises.