looking glass

and I fell into the disarray
some banging on and some racing through
crashing and striking
lulling the senses to violence
as simple as the next breath.
I fell into the display
a mockery of childish fairytales
with endings that flourish
and knot into a ribbon
a creeping note and a sweeping melody
a sharpness and a choreography
that delays the senses.
pick up all your weapons
and dance along
whip the trees and cut down the roses
here we try to dispose of all of it
why is the richness of life
now bludgeoned neatly
into a cardboard box?
and I kept falling through
a looking glass that shattered
my own bloody fingers
my own eyes watching
the dismayed expressions
the listless dance
the demands of the heart
broken between lips
that can’t ask for more
for its been counted and sorted
for someone else

let me weave a string of fate

to open without hesitation
and no wound to become an obstruction
to a flow that should be natural
and nothing would deter its path
to your heart
and then to mine
to open and bloom like sweet peas
and hydrangeas with their luscious ornate petals
to open without the sense of incoming doom
and the fear of mockery
to say the words as hot as they feel
and let it flow

let me sing the melody
an orchestral whisper into dusted corners
the reverb would upturn the curtains
and somehow the veils would vanish
somehow it will seem as real as the sun shining
illuminating the blue blue sky
spearing through the cottonous clouds

opening without hesitation
a vaporous foam
a froth of petals
every uncertainty a crackle of fire disappearing
and lighting all and every path
from me
to you

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