Category «poetry»

spinning

She spin dark brown clay, forming body and mind into soul She spin her child into bird and lion and dolphin and mermaid She then place clay inside her womb and fire it into human, mixed with everything Earth and sky, gift wrapped in gold and silver glittered orange box and purple satin ribbons She …

memories in a can

she was dying not from disease it was much more invasive than that there is no vaccine for pain no vaccine for the insecurity he bred inside her turning her into a genetic modification of her former self her soul is now broken ribs from steel-toe boots no vaccine for immortal memories she wished would …

under the baobab tree

she waited for herself at twilight under the baobab tree black skirt raised above knees red and gold painted bare feet on haunted ground spirit rising through ancient soil seeking lost self and awaiting life the agape dance gyrating for the coming moon gyrating for her lost self smelling sea water on moonbeams night skirt …

yesterday’s words

there is a forgotten life inside this aging skin fragmented memories of an ancient epoch ancestral reinventions laced in lost stories our flesh matters less than the words we leave behind the lyrics endure; a griot’s invocation the deluge of stories return to our waiting tongue words become anthropomorphic things with breath and soul; with …

mortal words

i’ve decided that i don’t want to write, not with my hands anyway. i want to think words onto paper and screens and leaves and stones and skies. i want words to fall onto the sand and clay soil, carved into ice and cave walls. i want words to appear on my skin, spinning stories …

i am the stream…

i am the stream… of consciousness. it is 2:38pm, monday, the In The Beginning day of the week august 14. twenty seventeen, whatever that means it is the day when i want to forget the days and seconds and step into infinity, the un-time when will my day come. this is not a question. not …

save words

i will save words for you. bottled and pickled words for you. then feed you synonyms of me, so you will always remember my taste. i will flavor your life until all your tongue remembers is what it is was like to come…to come…to come …into my dreams. and stay a while. a long while. …

satchel of poems

I had a satchel filled with poems that I tossed into the sea. I wrote them on tiny circles and squares and rectangles woven with jute, some in permanent gold ink, others lovingly stitched on over the course of many sunrises and sunsets. It may seem foolish, but I believe the fish will read them …

freedom

We all seek freedom in one way or another. But in the end, we live in an age where none of us know what true freedom feels like. We’ve never lived it beyond our mind and flowering imagination. Although I don’t know what freedom feels like as a tangible experience, I know the swing of …

the thinning web

The silken network of threads thin inside me; those webs that stick to everything that I am. They thin, inch by inch, but strengthen, holding on to heart and lung and liver and spleen. They hang on to sinew; but muscles and bones don’t groan. They hang on to elusive time and love spent dry. …

authentic

Strong, sturdy hips receive hungry thrusts. Authentic sex is not for the weak. Fainting hearts are not welcome here. Moans crescendo, vibrating leaves and rippling rivers. Bodies transform, like werewolves under a hunter’s moon. Two bodies cast a single shadow upon the leaves, a single shadow spread eagle under star filled skies. Animalistic echoes part …

time leaves

one day, when time leaves snow will be warm and the sun green. the ancestors will return and birth, painless. knowledge drinkable and love no longer for sale. i will be the birds i envy. they will walk in human skin. when time leaves i will understand the un-now and know the meaning of living.

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