oh, june
she crushes me
these roses warmed in her Sun
today, tomorrow, and yesterday, at least
it’s not enough
to see them, touch them,
smell them, now
i want to swallow them down warm
into my heart
and keep them forever
oh, june
Tag: love
worth
i measure my worth
in deer so at ease they’ll eat kale from the garden, less than five meters from my door
by a home-cooked meal eaten together, still hot
in heritage Jimson weed blooms on summer nights
& harvested, unblemished squash on autumn afternoons
in bats sighted overhead at dusk from the stoop
in thriving houseplants, all named and watered
in clean sinks, sheets, floors and birdbaths
by pages read, no matter
by the number of rabbits who see me and then ignore my presence
in folks, walking exhausted, or in rain, who accept my offer, climb into my truck with their groceries or booze for a lift home
in miles walked with the dog, and in my stilled patience as he interprets the “news” thoroughly with his nose
in native prairie plants restored, by my hand, New England asters, sweetgrass, have mercy,
in minutes spent on the phone with my son,
my golden boy
memo to a particular poet
i am going to bed, now
at 7:08
to lessen the ache
of being awake
this is a poem
this is the business
of us, artists
this is our “business correspondence”
inform a collaborator
a coworker – if you will,
of your passwords and process
before taking those pills
my corazón has nearly bled-out
migrating across my torso, my limbs,
and my crown
settling into my cornflower blue eyes
bloodshot — with or without drops and disguise
play possum
i’m fine
nothing’s wrong
i just really love this song
gives me the blues sometimes, is all
a snake, a possum, a doe and fawn
on the roadside killed, again, i saw
i heard the breaking news story
i’m awfully raw, so please ignore me
this world can be so cruel and wicked
of course, my tender heart’s afflicted
glistened eyes, lump throat, and quiver lip
you think they’re for you?
well sir, or ma’am: that’s rich.
all lies,
but also, all true.
the sea of inez
i feel the gravity
the love
the loss
so close || this close
almost, almost, almost
buoyed then anchored
an internal saltwater aquifer suffusing me
with congestive heartbreak
swelling and stiffening my limbs
i cant walk to you or anyone
beached in my own body
my eyes filling my mouth, my throat
i can’t talk to you or anyone
muted by our illicit drug
swallow,
swallow,
swallow
that sea inside you
or else,
drown, drown, drown
in it
i am not a mermaid
i am a human woman
yet my belly’s pregnant
with an ocean
she’s y/ours
Continue reading “the sea of inez”sleep
sleep keeps you from me
you, unconscious and at rest
with my newfound enemy:
the Succubus
she eats your dreams of me, love
that’s why you can’t remember them
then, this great Lake
like a cold floor
between our warm
twin beds in winter
get out of bed, love,
come, sail to mine,
risk it
simpler, open your hazel eyes, please
thumbs, please dance in the blue light
say more, tell more, please
anything satisfies, love,
everything does
someone
i feel like someone
you last loved on a wednesday,
earlier this week
i feel like someone who was once your intense singular joy/ now and again, an invisible naturalist, poet, neologist and crone
i feel like someone you forgot to mention the Hilma Af Klint show to
i feel like someone losing our intimacy
exponentially, by the second, against a shot clock in an un-united center
i feel like someone whose forehead you won’t kiss; whose hollows you’ll never touch with hands, tongue or tip; like someone who’ll never truly climax again
i feel like someone who upset you with
Dream[ing] and that’s where it ended; someone who never listened to your diatribe about Waco, or heard of your plane rituals and four-part fruition
i feel like someone whose mystery you’ll let be; whose content was consumed without gnosis; like those cold “leftovers.”
i don’t feel like someone you will walk across a frozen Lake or Lake bed to get to anymore, during the apocalypse, Station Eleven style Continue reading “someone”
Gnostic Gospel of Transition
All light
That’s what you are
That’s what you always were
But, you’ve got to move on, now
Ready to go home, true.
They’re waiting for you.
All light,
I promise; it’s alright
the limineen | earthling, poet & crone 