Last night my lover spoke of math,
And the theories of Lacan,
To loose the heart of me.
“You are the symbolic, and the real,
And the (i) imaginary all in one,”
i was near belief and then I laughed.
–a.r.
imaginary wandering by SuzyTheButcher
Found on deviantART
I let him in
Because she lead the way
Bringing him as close to me as I could bear
A corner stare
He does not dance
But waits, as if we both have time
To afford me this with her while I am able
A minuet of heat too soon unstable
His chill will have its way
One day, his steady slow approach is set
For now she keeps me moving, feigning immortality
As if his ghastly grasp is not already hovering
You see
I had to let him in
To watch, so at the end I could say
I also let her have her way
— A.R.
Reworking of a poem I wrote a few years ago.
All of this grey, and cold, and snow always brings thoughts of death and his steady approach
…all while I still dance warmly with life…
and enjoy it even more because I know he’s there.
Comfort inside my own skin
An evolving revelation
Comfort with it on display
A phantom ego expectation
— a.r.
Donkey Skin by Stuntkid,
Found on deviantART.com
Tonight
I willingly nail
Ankles, to cushion, to floor
To find out if I still feel
Only my toes left free
To wiggle like searching worms
For comfort they will not know
Wrists, to thighs, to kneeling bench
To beg relief from emptiness
My fingertips sucking the numb
Neuronal straws like Seconal
From soul, from heart, from mind
Clearing this fog with searing
Cramping heat clamping down
Draining blood from all but vital
Breath, and brain, and notice trained
After hours something small has changed
I tear my limbs from crucifixion
Allow my skin to fill again
And I have learned
From letting in
The pain
To win
–A.R.
Photo by Squintphotography on Etsy
Safety pins
Not really safe
Too easily come undone
Like love affairs
With pressure slight
Ignored and they draw blood
-a.r.
Prickly II by BrokenFayth on deviantART
You say you love the way
It lines my lips with want
And words with favor
Lace my brain
So today I let you finely stitch
Us together with this kiss
— a.r.
Painting by Pietro Antonio Rotari
Last night I dreamt of writing verse
A quickly penned completed work
And then woke up to absolutely nothing
But cold sweat soaking sheet and skin
So I reached out wildly to my left
For something solid I could grip
Only empty t-shirt filled my fist
Was it rising falling with your breath
Perhaps just enough of nothing sure
So I let go and simply slept
–A.R.
Empty Bed Series by Caroline Balderston Parry
February is
A melancholy month for me
This year I’ll make an effort
To simply let it be
Sitting won’t be easy
Nor will it cure this agitation
Like bare feet trapped
In woolen socks
I’ll wait it out this iteration
— A.R.
Going Within by Holly Olivia Pendergast
This empty ship should be cut loose to drift
My ancient anchor dropping down to depths
And I will be riding waves before it hits
Carried by a barely there breeze moving
Magic nothing billowing the lining of my chest
Because there is something starboard to be found
To fill me even if it is only the salty air scent of sunburn death
I will sail onward until then turning toward my shifting plot of land with
Or without an X that marks the spot where I must stop at journey’s end
–A.R.
Ghost Ship by Serge Sunne
There is a fleshy mask
Stapled sloppy to my face
It has become heavy
Pulling at the places that attach
Metal to skin to me
Finally giving notice
When I open my mouth to speak
I hear my own words echo back clearly
But you hear muffle, garble
Translating me into whatever
However you need to hear
I have seen you clear enough
Through this other set of holes
However ill-fitting, lack of periphery
And assumed that you saw me
But it is this fucking heavy face you see
It occurs to me that I did not
Fit this face atop my own, but you
Fastened it to make transactions
Comfortable and easily able to be labeled
My mistake was in leaving it be
The consolation that at least I could see
Outward is not enough anymore
I no longer wish to be blocked
By someone else’s formation
Fascination
I no longer wish to be the only one
Hearing clear my speech when I say
I will open wide my mouth and eyes
Enough at last to loosen the manmade
Grip between this mask and me
Loosed enough I’ll rip it off finally
I am less afraid of flesh tearing
Now
Or psyche
Aware
That the jagged edges left behind will scream
What you make of the monster
Underneath is your problem
Alone
I’ll be free
— A.R.
Painting by Susan Trueblood Stuart
