The Beginning

•October 22, 2021 • Leave a Comment

This isn’t a story
Of said soot-covered bird
Shaking free 
And flying easily
No, this is a tale
Of embers still around me
Smoldering and dying
It’s hot as hell
And filthy here
There’s barely air
For breathing
And darkness only
Pierced by flame
Searing my skin
I’m fighting to survive
Again
At some expense
I’m choking
Rising is not winning
It is instinct
To stop the pain
To find cool wind
Sweet oxygen
And to postpone
The end

-me

Photography: The Beginning of Ashes, by Mikael Aldo

Phantom Pain

•October 5, 2021 • Leave a Comment

These skeletons will
Not stay put their muscular
Memory’s afoot

-me

Detail from an 18th century oil painting depicting the Dance Macabre

For Now

•October 4, 2021 • Leave a Comment

I do not know
What I have left
In me
To say
To give
To be
So I will
Speak for now
Of nothing

-me

Painting: I have nothing to say. Just feel it. by Lia Kimura

Nightmare

•October 3, 2021 • Leave a Comment

Every single thing
I write
I want to burn
As it turns
Out
Making myself
Sick
With my own words
Is all
The gift
That I have left
To give
To spite
My dreamy inclinations
Otherwise

-me

Painting: AA80 by Zdzislaw Beksinski

October’s Needle

•September 17, 2021 • Leave a Comment

A crow on the porch
And a cat in my lap
The sky growing dark
And descending

A sigh on the wind
And a stab in my brain
This season could use
Bloody mending

-me

Painting: Female Hands Sewing by Giovanni Boldini

Arc

•August 30, 2021 • Leave a Comment

Sensations hyper
And frying
I fear
I am nearing
A meltdown
But those
Sizzling seconds
Just before
Catastrophe
The crackling wires
And sparking
Blues reveal
The best of me

-me

This Morning

•August 16, 2021 • Leave a Comment

My comforter
Curls
On the floor
Like intestines
Spilled
From my bed
It is dehiscing day
Time set aside
To cleave
Strip
And clean
These unstitched 
Fevered dreams
Of infection

-me

Painting: Unmade Bed, by Patricia Larson Green

A Little Death

•August 12, 2021 • Leave a Comment

The trees are coming down
Or being brought
Down after obvious death
With carefully crafted
Brutality, dismembering
And a system they have
Devised over years
Of ropes and saws and luck
And skill cannot keep
Slivers of what once was
From flaying and flying
Are my little dry dyings
As obvious now to others
And are they waiting
With implements and grinding
Gear and machines
To do away with whatever
Last bits of me
Remain

-me

Photographer Uknown

Bide

•August 8, 2021 • Leave a Comment

I can see the end
Of summer
And feel it
With each early
Falling leaf
It’s a soft and drifting
Sadness laced
With longing
For letting go
Of light that kept me
Dancing
For returning
To a darker earth
That keeps me
Changing
I welcome
My decay
And waiting

-me

Painting: Decaying Leaves by Ginny Perry

Before the Fall

•August 6, 2021 • Leave a Comment

I can only see
The tops of trees
Sweet tips of green
Soft leaves of me
In sharp relief

-me

Painting: Daedalus and Icarus, by Vladimir Kolosov
 
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