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 the redstrawberries / naked insanitiesto veiled black feathers,we’ll not waitfor the moon to commit suicide.Have our tombs,six months in winter,six months in spring; [...]

ii.

i. black coat / I see death / in the moon / and hawks nest / one worm / New York drinks the flowers, I could imagine, if I ever had a dream it was not like this / bone split open and blooms / ii. it’s the snow, it’s the / cold / two [...]

during winters.

the unseen darkness and ghosts of madmen pluck the death in me with lady’s slipper petals; craters of blackberry oyster shells lay at night during winters; the red fingernails of grief, the oceania flowers drowned and in our minds we dissolve like white tombs of the moon. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. First appeared [...]

Alive (to drown).

Original draft. Shudder, these leaves scuffle In the admission of winter In the yellowing stillness That faces you, bleeding mindlessness; You are a fool, you are death, where eyes decipher the plea in the thorns of a mother’s tree, and the godhood in the horizon, that wept in smothered dark, alone in Elysium labor in [...]

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.

The last mask of winter.

The fields             sluiced with rain                                     on the leafing             of memory, On each rock and scree             living in the Appalachian breeze. The mind of frost             crusted in the corbeil             undressing in the air. Where is our consciousness?             The bluster of stone streaked in corrupt minds             on the last [...]

A dream suspended from sanctuary.

The partition of light slides upon the red, pale rocks shielded by the cluster of streams, a fossilized hue of the starlight in the refusal of blustering dreams. A mere smudge of waterlogged forbidden Arcadia—tasseling a present vanishing in exile a solemn midsummer darkness prowling the streets in your memory. A moment of sense fragmented in [...]

A Winter Sere.

A winter sere upon ashen cypress leaves A paradise among a ghoul of wind, a fragile river, Where I, I will stay beside a midnight tomb that rose a shiver, Alas in the time!—the entombed willows illuminate the trees, And I will wake from frail calls, lonely, enkindled by the breeze. I will wake in [...]

My Hope Arises.

To Accede Into My Own Desires. II. A treatise in the eye of nightfall Severed by my tears in hope, in desire, Upheld in breadth of bell flowers, My hope arises, attested to divinity Immersed by a winter season, deemed solace, As the solstice nurses the night to dead squills. And I pray, inclined to [...]