the dying game.

with summons, I sit alone; I was tired of my penetralium and id frozen in aureoled chokes, harassing me to the shadows; each eye abstract, to the phantom of stone; I snipped my garden bones of the rose-beds, felt the hidden moon into the thorns, a baby’s opus, the dying game. © 2021 lucysworks.com All [...]

silhouetted.

suffering from topaz and featureless silhouettes in dancing tragedies; a hand from every ten in the street roots mine I pick the miracle of solitude pushing myself away from others; the garden feels my shame stones, please do not stare at me eyes they wore bliss like rain. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

moon stunt rain.

i rise from my bed of snakes, glassy apparition, you have nothing on me; garden fingers and eyeholes i hid from: no one can get me no one can be the thief but the moon, I devour known blood of these garden thorns, the moon-stunt of your flower I see goes (and its rain). © [...]

i hid from you all.

littlest rain it was not dead or the moon with her eyes the perfume asleep, having flowers to cease as i now subsume tragedy beyond the wisp of her lips phantasmagorical stillness yet adorns to me her eyes of stone. in the garden wore a death of bliss perpetuare suffering © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights [...]

glasspetals.

sometimes a moona snake on my head,a leaf from reapinga leaf from falling glasspetalsare fingers in the moonriseand sun-veins; i cannotbelieve in god after all thethings I’ve done, each oceanid clawreaches me so I drown © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

lies.

for the starsi liediminish i see the moonfled the rain, deathpoising swiftly, & unspeaking,a poet crowsspun a wind, shuttingyourbeautiesin the spring-said of earthindigomy skin, I rise so no onesees meone womanbirth,subsumedbut eyesI lie with themeasy. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

hang a tree.

Flooded the daughter a d ead flower seized by the moon-Moses light in the stars a seed wasted as a poet hangs a tree was it me I don’t know a syntax clouding a mind, holding in my arms, dancing if jokers grin. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

no more.

i carry the small roselike a moon of your bodya syntax of fools,that if the sun and the sky and the rosesfall to the garden i will let your name climb upon my bodyand head until iam no more. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

petaled, like the moon.

Fire 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.

seafarer.

seafarer,I’ve lived on the leafstalkand moon-groves, beforeI peeled back my mind winter is cold-bloodedI hatch from the twiggyrose in frozen veins in the sanctum of the treessplit in the sun-moon, our bonesshe crawls like the moon © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

spinning.

I 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.

a daughter starless.

A 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.

moonglow.

Swaying 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 [...]

This night.

summer, pilgrimage of the ewe; the blood sun breaks upon death— is the symmetry of the flower where an ocean throws the moon’s noose, leaving to the knot of a darker azure? dream, and you might too leave in the white rose of lips; sewn a monolith  exchanging, in perfidy, a child at the river [...]

a sea dying.

deepens / the eye / and mawkish suckle the moon's breast to the tree and their leaf white fingers dead / to broken bone and dust to a fitful dreaming / oxbow shores I leave like the foot of a spore / and a sea dying finds me alone. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.