Napowrimo 4

An oakwood frame

cracked from the other night

the other night

ages ago

houses the blocks

mostly hollow blocks

sponge, wood and linen

—Which I always forgot to change—

breaking of the complacency of stillness

of absence


I should open a window or

smash-pull the shutters or

ignore the secrets stitched on the blue, grey quilt or

Ignore the novels stacked to my knee or

Ignore the walls

—They are so bare, don’t you think

too bare

don’t you think—

Ignore the solemn solidity that fizzes

deflating a grey grin

a florid form evaporating

consolidating


Yesterday returns

a flood to the levy

 

NaPoWriMo 3

I left

I left

you

I left you

You glided between the static of a home and the crash

the crash

watching me from the negative

from absence your eyes glimmer

as a silent sea

You watched me

lying still with another

lying still with an other

stasis holds me

I was always the betrayer

I was the betrayer

looking through the glass to see you

I see you

still

I see you

I see

Napowrimo 2 - Godmen

Pulling candies from the heavens

godmen steal

stones build the temples.


Second child of god   your words cannot hold me

as a lover

when the sea knocks at the door

I cannot flee the tempest

lift me from this flood

pull me

pull me

as a stone or sweet

so I may bruise or be devoured

NaPoWriMo 1 - Three Trinities

Mushrooms polyped in the basement every winter

coming with the downpour

swelling the woodwork

diffusing the sun


the fog would suck the light from my torch

the streetlamps

headlights

the blanket glowed and the glow clotted my vision

and each winter I would go blind on the solstice


ten years ago in December my mother died

ten years ago in December my brother breathed

he wailed and grinned

ecstatic child breathing blood


there is no fire season

it is every season

and I when I breathe in I become the fire
I become the fire


matchsticks catch more than words


I left my lighter back somewhere

on a road that dissolved into the horizon

paved into cracked earth


June beats the heat into the earth

July watches the sky ignite


the ground below me is glass

it cracks


tonight it will rain

it will rain for ten years and another ten years and another ten


under this mountain I will weather the storm

under this mountain I will follow the glow

oozing from what is buried here


these are our secrets

I have chosen to keep

these are our secrets

I have chosen to keep

 

Free Form 6 - Coming Home

It is sand

our childhood home with its desiccated hardwood that could not feed

the termites

my friends left before and here

in the cupboards and drawers and chests

in the reflections that reflect myself / reflect myself


my costume is loose and pale yellow

dotted poppies pulled over the flesh / looking

I do not see anything but the billows

The image needs to be refined / redefined


I am digging

what I left here was nothing

it was nothing

it was nothing

I swear I swear I swear


in the basement I asked a mouse caught by a spring if it remembered me

it did not respond / of course

and I flipped through the pages

dry and yellow and brittle

I could not read my mother’s hand

nor my father’s expression in a still


his tie was askew and his sleeves up rolled

his hand lifted shading his gaze

there is something in that absence

I could not fill it in

and he died too long ago

leaving love letters to rot


in the attic

plastic roses nudge from under a box lit and poppy spotted wallpaper unspools

sunlight leaks through the roof

the rain soaked into every pore

the kudzu would devour the journals

I left here

if there was anything left to devour


do you remember the wail that followed the screech and thunk

that preceded the viscous red creep and the tare of asphalt

when that man was obliterated

the summer when we were seventeen

watching the street and dreaming of where it would lead


Free Form 5 - The Flood

The flood has its own master and its destruction is not

a random event

a random event

separates us and I wish I could swim but the pull is stronger than I

and I

and I

forgot the lessons I learned in childhood

to fashion a fire or to drop a hook

to speak without bitter reflections turning one cadence to another


The flood has its own master but

I have not

I have not

reclaimed this space

the mildew will linger I think the mildew will propagate I will have to tear this place down

board by board

board by board

the infection has crept


tomorrow the roaches will feast and then be feasted upon

so will the mice and the snakes

infestation is another word for success

infestation shouts and bustles and screeches

infestation seeps into the identity of the infestor

I must devour

I must devour

everyone I know

dreaming others to obliterate


Last night the water came to my ankles

the newspapers flowed around me

the water

up to my waist I climbed the stairs


What did I leave there

it does not matter

the rain pounded and flashed and seeped destruction into me

what was left was wrecked

the stinking husk that remains

I will hack to pieces

until I cannot see the differences in what I want to remember

and what I should

 

Free Form 4

Tonight I will dream but not of you

scrubbing mildew from the cavernous tile

revealing a mosaic

myself stretched and split

into a thousand little pieces

by design


I will have not forgotten you

I cannot clean the smell from the air

or the violences we committed

to eachother

how can one forget?


Tonight I will dream and

tonight I will cloak myself the in futures that would otherwise unravel, a line of blood.

this thread is my own.

 

Free Form 3

The stones you threw

will not quiet

at night

they whisper stories, but never lies.

Free Form 2 - Tomorrow

Tomorrow is tomorrow is tomorrow

and today I raise the sails

the azure plain calms me

who was I

the water has forgotten as a lover has forgotten


Ambivalent of the waves that erode the hull

or the worry churning tempest that hurls curses as bolts


Memories drown in the present

today I breathe in what I shouted

yesterday

I will forget

tomorrow I will wake to a flat horizon

I will become a single point

in a landscape deconstructed


Tomorrow I will reconstruct the world

 

She said, “I collect galaxies.”

The gems jangled in her pockets,

little fragments / fictions

side by side and light years away.