Tag: Poetry


I, memory, I, a membrane and ghost meronym to memory and free— I am the thorn of flowers in your mouth, and the foot of the leaf between the limbs of a […]

death’s bouquet.

in womb, the fingers of tree an ancestress trunk in sects of strife, as born and lived through roots like fossil teeth, pressing to death’s bouquet in November’s winds; shackled in ebbs […]

You handsome devil.

The first chip in the axeis in the ebony winterfingers craving on the freshvein of apples,madness, an old wine, the tender briarof the moon and drunkmorpheus to a shorethat never bleeds;seduction to […]

never a tear shed.

God fish-lines death, warming beast of waves, congeries of suffering, and it must burden the toxins and sprawlings of the moon; it hung a neck upon the curragh becoming wraith, it will […]

do not.

centuries dead moonpretty ladies on the streetby death, clothed withwhite snow; winter’s blue waterfingers in stardust, snitching ice redhingingas though I had seen, dearest,your physiognomy of spring,moved in black craters; (like tall […]

she takes.

No use for the forget-me-nots my fingers are frozen on the congeries of madness, please do not find my duplicity; through veins darkly, my pet virus born twirls the tribe of aurochs— […]

fools of happiness.

slumber, my fingers pullover mind, a drowning of us,an open dance, mindlessness evermore; winter’s wounds deny, disown madness,it is afar from where we left, grieved,the salvation into the abyssal tonguealone, in thalassic […]

All Hallows Eve.

All Hallows Eve, the cat does liethe divan comforts him; night entwinesmoon whispers in labor, duplicity’s lips are cruel,he stares in penitential innocence, you fool. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

The sea girls.

peyote ripples uponmy father’s hands,I horde my poems in the melismaof my bare bones within the arboretum and the vagary of the moonshe nocturnes this feeling of death;it’s early winter and the […]


Baby’s breath into the elm tree, a strange lady in rose heels, she is the crypt for there are no dreams; arresting, like death, to the apple–the serpent’s rictus; with the body […]


the corvid rises from the yellow moon,wept to a body of death, dismissal of its heartbeat to the atramental starsof unbidden dance; I know how this goes,I’ve been here before,slipping out of […]

I am a ghost to you.

death is a red coquetteon your father’s fossil armits abyss forgotten and ungrievedinto cosseted veins of poetry,but words mean nothing to you; yellow dreams wept in her darkness,and caitiff of mirrored dust, […]


Metaphysical places; mirrored minds; mooring across the broken bird, maybe the Madarasz’s tiger in its mournful lone,keep the arbored madnessin her untethered womb—swaddle the nest of the tree with aneurysmed red bodies […]