Friday, October 29, 2010

045: Living inside me

Standing on the pier
that pierces the seam
of a sea of stone,
sacrally alone,
starflesh dives the rim.

Breathing caves of fear,
housed in crumbling lungs;
if I dare pry,
hear the crystal cry,
bells of waking rung.

Trickling dusk draws near
and heralds the dark night,
lightning in the soul,
imprint in the coal,
the end in living light.

Stabbing steps do sear,
disease march 'cross the ice,
every breath, a knife,
still, the kiss of life,
building paradise.

Monday, October 25, 2010

044: Words for weak flesh

by somatic whispers,
cavern lung
caving in,
coiled by the black,
every breath,
a shovel racking
moist mud.
Strings of seconds,
shapeless, nameless,
rendering language useless,
always present
at the hours' cross,
sickness is,
silence exists,
clawing at the sun,
creeping through the seams.
Full speed ahead,
into the ice,
oceans of onyx
prepare the trail;
a memory
blown away
by a sour mistral.
This is a war
of still frames,
never fatal,
always wounded,
gleefully sullen
beneath a nova sky.
Ballast emote,
blast of emotion,
say the word
that's yet to be,
wriggling through the red
into the blinding
carrying on,
indulge / resist.

Friday, October 22, 2010

043: For a second, the world stopped.

There was agitation below,
splatter of leaves in stuttered colors
as the pendulum swung,
from nadir to zenith.

Rushed by vectors of joy,
a snapshot cyclone caved the bridge
only to raise it anew,
astray, yet cognizant.

Lifted the lid, in ache,
to the obsidian blade, wrought red,
smitten by the sun
before a perfect dawn.

And the child laughed,
his pearl mouth, straight from a scripture,
while darkness, amoebic, snug in,
like a pet, in his warm absence.

Within the morning gleam,
blood seeped through his feather crown,
along the scaly coils,
for dust to coalesce.

It took seasons in seconds
to remember the myth I never forgot;
and throughout the confines,
sleepless chains shook.

You whispered it gently,
in dual incarnations, guiding light azure,
thus, infernal and tender,
I will rest in awe.

Monday, October 4, 2010

042: Healing dance

Information amok besieging the gates of reason,
a stop sign is ignored in spiteful fashion,
ask questions but sometimes the answer is blank,
drifting on the river, fishing fragments of passion.
At the end of the hallway there's an unlocked door,
winding steps fly into equilibrium,
tectonics intact from petrified pumping,
still seeking the flame, burn cryptosporidium.
In a late hour, bleeding, reality serrate,
from the ramparts I still see myself, not lost,
with a silver bullet gun to banish demons from the mirror,
from sweetest lips, never ignore what matters most.