Tag: dark

Freshly wounded rimes

Our House

The cancerous floral proliferation of a creative-minded child

Can conjure rabies in a Dad like Snow White’s poison apple.

 

It goes: fresh undulating capillaries form, at dreamtime, ‘neath

The foundations of a country home conjoining not one, but four

 

Four children to the central Nervous system of a hardwood,

cross-borne body turning every virgin dandelion to oak

 

They cast each stem in pitch and resin

instill the fear of God in amber bones.

The cinders dance like lightning bugs

Over the bonfire’s conflagrating trepidation.

Freshly wounded rimes

Trying is digging up under old skin

Try writing about pain.
Never rests on the skin it is
Within inside, the depths, always,
the down the browbeaten city by city
Tar-black for miles open wounded rubble
Un-glowed organs sticking under bridges
Reverse emanation, the dusty heat and exhaust
A filthy wilted wrist like a child’s and
Is brown. Is brown like a sinking ship
The splintered wood like incense
Brown and thusly dim
Scrub it raw til it—
So many things are like,
Something that doesn’t
Exist in language.

Each photograph mother stark with specific eyes.
Ghostly bright in search, tearing fear
Fearing find or a fresh fruit-crisp birth next
Formula tubes too formulated to rot second chances,
Third chance, a headdress of food stamps,
Pa’lante.

You my ever looming father sleeveless
battered body leant to a small cat.
You emanated into her
your stored, storm, clearwater countenance boiling
Out into not saying everything ever and you cupped,
Vowing your rough palms,
Your hands around a final marigold when
You shielded it
From sun.

Triumphant Undergrowth

The legion of the lived

I sensed a chorus underground
Lurched the shoes and smoke, 
would break cathedrals in half
when it sounded up from the rock.
 
In a dirty limestone city of Christ 
The underworldly plains rolled out
bruising skies, and birds the size
of men, who rattled in their clothes
 
The gems between their fingers
glittered like red stars from roofs 
and opening the thick black dirt
grew and grew a quiet coliseum the 
voices marching up 
Mystic Arcadias

Planetarium

You can feel yourself slowly emerging.
The yawning embryonic dinosaur step.
Blink. Ventilate. Eyelash away
the eggshell snow
from the face.
Blink. Blink Crack the knees tap the
spine stretch longer the tap, the
catch of the flyspeck on the snout, and smell
the deeply acrid ray of dawn to softly sting the brow.

Your corpus crosses a
homeland wreckage blooming green
unfurling a dome like the halcyon fern
A Mosaic planetarium made
from webs and epidermis-thin iron
so that magnanimous faces pressed to it
stringed with freckled lumens
Watch.