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.

Lonely.

lonely, born in the ecstasy this root of blood; walk away into the forbidden, unmade road split and wounded, eternally with revived memory, the stranger of winter shadows into the dark planetary motion, the insanity picked from flowers will too go on as we walk away. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

“Thick Voices of Repose” by Brand.

Your spiritDrawn across the skiesVeiled in silver laceBeyond secret shadowsOn darkened peaksWhose granite walls echoThe voices of my heartJoined in constant songAnd cascadeBreaking away impermanenceAs the only rhythms of the nightWashing across synapses branching. Watching the wheel of new crescentPulling away cirrus crystal mistsMy feet rest in the flames of the earthAdding scent to my… Read More “Thick Voices of Repose” by Brand.

Memory.

Memory elides into the eyes there (let it die) in the sloth of dreams, it is a protest against the ice shadow of what the fuck were we thinking under the frail permanence of memory, this stir dislocated into cracked lilacs red born as species, the earth moves the rock. The ocean shivers each broken… Read More Memory.

The last thought.

Rocks lay before             the last thought and solipsism; Inside a frost stillness, decaying by the tree; Forbidden—the serpent’s blood betrays             the bone fingers that lay upon stone.                                     Feral. What happened?                                                 Illusory dreams                                                 are mere being.                                                             Devising a relent                                                                         to emerge outside                                                             to the city, deprived of… Read More The last thought.

Awake (Draft).

In an age                         of watching…             through a mind suffice                         in icy tombs; What word through our own,             to have finally sought                         the black star             that was the world we lived                         sleepless. And, awake.                         Drifting… Silence bare                                     on the dark mid-sea.                                                 The peony masking light… Read More Awake (Draft).