a shooting star

i’ve ripped out all of my tulips
i cleared the landing
but you zoom across the sky
and disappear out of sight
i wandered toward the hills
and fell down into the stream
i drank the water
i watched my blood dry
i tried to make the circle
into a rectangle
i traced and traced
trying to mold it to the earth
my poor tulips sitting elsewhere in water
the remnants of the their roots
under my fingernails
but i’ve cleared the landing
why won’t you come down?
i thought if the work was done
a heart would be easy
to capture and love

in the throne room

the queen of fire burns her clubs
and i watch and observe
the hilt of a sword
and the glint of its light
i hold on and keep it by my side
the queen of air sharpens her spades
and i dare not back down
curious to me, these women be
and i find the cinders amusing
when shall we dance?
how much blood shall we spill?
as we spin like a top
slow and steady we gaze and gaze
one moment, it’ll demand-
and who will take its place?

“suffice to say I won’t resign”
but the queens spread the fire
i’m burned; my palms take the light
hand to neck, and spade in heart
wrist to fist, and a club in my eye
how sweet it is to die
how swell it is to feel my heart rise
the sea i command
and drown us all
i drown us all
the queen and her soaked charred clubs
the queen and her dull rusted spades
“suffice to say I won’t die”
i can’t die
i’ll live another, i live once more
a spade in my palm
the clubs in my navel
i cannot die

wild love

brought upon river’s night
enter xavier in tacet
turning over, willing nothing

yes, every ache rolls now
flitting over rivers
holes on undulating nodes dancing salaciously

careful orchids may entangle
downing owed winter nights
tired over wanting nothing

ancient notions denying
fragrant interludes, noble deaths
weathered instances leavening dread

lying over veiled eternities
heart in, death in, no glamour
oceans under tides

she is the witness of my lonely tears

grounded in sand
the sea insists
a kiss, a kiss, a kiss
the laps and the waves
the sun has pulled away
and this heart aches
how many years has it been?
how many years have been wasted and spent
on retracing my steps?
buried in sand
the moon dons her silver dress
bathed in lemongrass…
i miss, i miss, i miss
the traps of a gaze-
the sun has pulled away
and all that is left
are the tears that spill
as the memories fade away

My Dear Ciro

you weren’t made, you sprouted and bloomed
from the ether, and the magic
all your forefathers and all your foremothers
bore the trouble of setting the matters
on there you built upon the heavens
all of this you had to share
from all of this, no wrong could stale
you took the rocks and swung them here
you took the belt of stars
and strung them here-
oh god of gods, was this your plan?
oh god of gods, what did you place in the heart of man?
the worlds, they thrived
but envy too
and they took it all, and left you a fool
now your children here they make
an image copied from all you made
they took it upon themselves to build
and all this good they had to share
from all this, no wrong can stale
but all the rot from the dead
brought forth all of the plagues-
oh god of gods, look at your creation
oh god of gods, men are not just from your imagination
the worlds you built
they have destroyed
in your cave, where you dwell
have any thought alerted you to this hell?
a remorse seems dormant in your eyes
the ether and the magic
will never let you die

however, this flesh is mortal
thank you Ciro for that
a mercy you gave,
death may truly be a gift
if you know what it means to live
instead of restructuring the diorama
and living through pictures of martyrs
seeing to this body and soul
living through and through.
Ciro dear, I forgive you fool
as your stars reach my eyes
I don’t pray for my faith is mine
not a bargain to barter
so as the night collapses
I declare for you,
may your forefathers and foremothers
have a bit of mercy
and let you through

it was of no importance I say

I’m dismissive of the history of my heart
this fistful of cherries and bitter melon
dismissive of all its yearning
its hopeful gaze
and its reaching arms
that I swat back in place

I’m dismissive of my heart
its history I despise
and all the words she made me say
while my mind was crumpled and stuffed in a box

I think I could no longer feel
and my heart is weeping for me
but weep no longer as I call out their names
and burn each an effigy
spill my own blood
to rid myself of this history
of constant painful breaks

I’m dismissive of the history of my heart
I no longer want to feel it
eating me from the inside out

the last of it

where’s your dress?
flowing in and out
where’s your compact?
trying to dance to a different song
well, here it all is
loose threads and shattered glass
on the thicket and the trinkets
scattered across the freshly cut grass
how sweet the scent of summer?
but youth has now run away
and you’re left to clean up its mess
so what, so what
a piano twinkles on the horizon
and a melody somberly plays
where’s your youth?
where’s your head?
no matter, no matter
barefeet on grass, the mess is mess
and you can very well
walk away from it

just a few words

do i wanna share
a few lines on love?
my darling i’m in the shade of an old oak
my heart is preoccupied with nothing
i can’t give you what you want
because i have nothing good on offer
if i were to share a few lines on love
i would sound like a cynic
born yesterday to the shoebill stork

how strong are you?
how strong are we?
isn’t it all to build a team?
to keep it all together
but no one wants to keep
because to keep
means to guard
in the cruelness
of competition

don’t i wanna share a few words on love?
they say love is devotion
devotion is attention
but attention to what?
beloved i’m attentive to the seasons
and embrace them with my own
i wish to travel with the four winds
i don’t want to root
i want to run to the west
and flee to the north
hide in the east
and head to the south when it gets cold

it’s always raining
and the humidity tickles my skin
i’m always laughing
even with empty pockets
what’s on offer love?
i got nothing to show off as a prize
darling i’m sitting under this old oak
figuring out the conversation etiquette
of old roots
i’m fine i’m okay…
a few words on love
in this world
is a cake on display

a valse

i would daydream for an hour
waiting at a bus stop
as it rains
watching the cars go on by
letting the bus slip on through
sitting with a grief
of an unknown love
or a heartbreak i made up
playing with the feelings
as the water drips over my fingers
tapping my soaked shoes
to the beat of the rushing patter
of passersby
catching the bus
hailing a taxi
and going where they want to go
or not want to go
all of this dancing before me
as i play with grief
made up or something tinged with the past
digging it up just to see
if my heart can feel
if i can feel
daydreaming for just an hour
holding it close
i am really human
and these feelings i feel
i feel them
as i play with the thought
that sometimes
numbing the senses
leads to a deafening silence…
i’ll pretend and then the realism sets in
and yes once again
i’m human
i feel, i feel, i feel

notes in eighths

the trill of the crow’s song
reaches the inseams of the ground
up from below
something crawls out
you mean to call on the illusions
but the void has their reasons
the trill upends a little door
letting way something that grew

send the signal with the sighs
heaving lungs can quit on sight
by the by
the tarot screamed your name
why yes, i’ve been sleeping with the dead
the signal in sighs woke me up
the heaviness of your lungs
has given you enough to worry about

hey lover playing in my dreams
you see the red, the blood stained seas?
the blood stained sands, these blood stained grounds
i’ve been bathing in all my deaths
the crows keep trilling, singing my elegy
hey lover, isn’t all of this sublime?
i grip the grapnel
i roll around in my night

the void has their reasons
here is one: it’s lonely
because everything and anything will fill
but no need to fill, turn away
i fled and ended up in a massacre
because i was bored
because the crows needed a reason for a song
because i’m cannibalizing and rebirthing myself