of age

so firmly
grasps the child
at threads of light

intangible things

is the loss of innocence
the acquisition of reason?

projection

the end of days is near
i feel it here

silent
stagnant
stifled
still

the future cannot be

the weather forecast: bleak

it's written so very clear:
the end of days is near

where the heart is

when did home
lose its walls
and gain skin?

upon closer inspection

flit of black
spinning, skidding
threat of stinging

squinted windows
fitting, flitting



... I saw a huge, decidedly threatening looking bug-creature barreling toward my face yesterday on the lawn of Weaver. Upon closer inspection, it was just a pair of flies getting it on.

inevitability

it seems to be the case
that i tie knots

frequently
liberally
fluidly

though they unravel
just as easily

When I was a little girl
Reading of worlds
On the other side of that
Window pane
My heart welled
Swelled and dwelled
And my gut fell
From my eyes
Onto the keys
Corroding my
Interlocking
face

ache

words exchanged in the dark
seem to hold so much more gravity
under the light of the moon

jibjaberrish

perhaps purging petty preoccupations
can create convincing conglomerations
of
important internal introspections

the lion and the forest

she, that ancient forest,
becomes consumed too easily by fire
and in her younger years
when her sapplings bent easily upon their green
and her dew covered leaves shook with the dawn
she too then was magicked far too quickly
by the iridescent beckonings of twilight
though it was in her transformative era
past the youthful glaze, and firmly in
the years of permanent change
when her dewy leaves had dried precariously
that she was ravaged by a spark that flew in
unannounced, landed, nestled in the deepest
part-- and smoldered and engulfed her core
and nothing was left save for the crumbling
towers of ashes once majestic, green, natural
statues that whispered of the mysteries of the earth
and so she, with trembling branches once again
drew up her boughs and nurtured newness,
basing her nature flesh now not on things past
but on water and fluidity, amorphous amalgamations
of the earth, her mother, because with this
constantly moving formation came rolling, ever
flowing impenetrability~
and so she became the heart of darkness
and many charters fell in obsession with her
her dark ways and her dark feel and her dark
obscurities~ but never did she let them light a
path through her undiscovered tracings--
but on a certain day when her darkness was
almost fully formed and static, shivering in its fullness
a majestic lion sauntered in, the king of beasts,
his tawny mane and glowing fire-base bursting
through her close knitted, light-lacking form
and shed blinding rays around--
she balked and bucked and rolled her leaves
and thought she had won and stoicism stayed
but when the lion left, she glanced down
and saw paw prints, glowing embers singed into her soil

simply

oh but did you know
you all are but fodder
for my imagination's cannon?

pleasant surprise

refreshing rabble-rouser
roused embedded emotions
embarrassed behind beneath
before pupils prayed
pleadingly simply searchingly

scared to move

internal clock

FLEETINGLY
flit, fly, flew
flow, flowered
flourished,
floundered, fell
fled

and so the point is...

cherry blossoms fall
once they have reached their highest
pinnacle of life


... who even takes haikus seriously?

considering the words of romantics

the trappings of the mind
clank toward
bionizing the heart
but between the bars
maybe the soul cries out

no matter, no matter
they are stifled anyway

cents

it sits in the pit of the bowels
stretched through intestines
looped together tight

an anchor, a weight
to chain sponge(naeity)
-- oh there, pull!

tight balls of slick flesh
barricade mushed mashes
of sweet/spicy/salty/savory/ssssssssss

but where do those knots go?
--what eventually where?--
or like a matted ball of fiber

does it cut through your center?

la

she was without form, once
after her organs sat
open to display
her sacred place of creation
placed in glass
on a white plateau of
sterility and germlessness
and when they sutured her
folds of skin back together
they accidentally closed in
her scorching, screaming spirit
and it begged to escape

ideal

at what point must one draw
the line or curvature of thought
instead of awe, but meeting the raw
dethroned reality of the overwrought --
can such a broken form of law
sustain grand non-out revolution
despite the ever gradual thaw
of that desired misconstrusion?

when it is

F
a
l
s
e
             i
             t
     a
       l
         l
 f
  a
    l
    (l)
    s
(e)

enabler

two years it seems has been too long;

can this sincerity be felt
or
l ean
d   w
        a
          you
            ?

cloy

the sun and moon can never be
though they glance at each other
longingly
oh she, she so fair and pure
the sun she calls to, implores
to drop his robes of white hot strength
to join her flowing, ebbing ways
but he as well to her suggests
to spurn the stars on which she rests
or better yet, mortal do rejoice!
for their union could raise your voice
in wails of terror, in wails of fear
at the union which turns earth's gears

paralysis

the sun that blinds the bird
once gently illuminated
its path, once showered
rays so gently on its wings
once gave it life and breath
yet morning grew to noon
and now it beats upon its back
flares its glare into its eyes
blinds its rescuers
and lures them into
retro-stasis

revision

inside joke poem.

one day i walked alone, forlorn
into the swirling mists of morn
to keep my heart, this i'd forsworn
but on a flower's evergreen thorn
i pricked my finger, i gasped with scorn
saw then i through those mists of morn
a long lost lover, now reborn!
and on his crown he bore a horn
my very own lovely unicorn!

osmosis

do goodwill and morality
feel the tendrils of desire
innocuous need to absorb
engulf such straight narrows?

empty

must we forge on
despite the inviting
aspect of nothing
forever nothing
what possible end
must we attempt to
attain
when nothing would
cause the least sorrow?

misnomer

when virtuosity exists
while no virtue be its base
of what does it consist
and what should be its face?

unfathomed

my intentions are but ships
floating on the waters
of undiscovered depths
and each blowing breeze
changes the undertow
the ships, o captain!
o captain, seize the
looking glass
and tell your men
which way to aim
their course

a present ill-used

oh i've learned to hate this bow
the present said to me one night
it's come to only bring me woe
despite -- nay, for! -- its pretty sight.
the child who toddles up to me
expecting shallow fun will pick
my shining bow with jubilee
and joy with judging me so quick.
would i had been encased in brine!
would i had been in battered trunk!
would i had carried my own sign!
would untrue notions I debunk?
alas, here i sit within the hands
of one whose eyes so swiftly judge
and all my carefully laid plans
laid bare for one i do begrudge.
or should i blame my end to this
unsightly piece of ribbon twist
for spurning those who would see through
the rosy-colored, pinky hue?

collide or scope

Look -- there he sits -- that little boy
Satisfied to recline all day
With head bent down upon his toy
And making observations -- stay!
Look how he marvels at the sight
Awaits each changing fractal light
And notes each detail with delight
But ne'er noticing his own blights
As day quickly turns into night.

would that i were

who has your heart's affections dear
what nymph of light glints in thine eye
whose mind do you esteem--
whose purity so clean
to catch your burning star so bright
who captures, holds your ideals tight
would only were it me instead
who danced and pranced about your head

to one for which anything could happen

a woman
swept back from
her desires
--time--
swept back into her hair,
french braided emblem
of a desire--
repressed--
femininity--
eyes smeared with
black lined desire
to come into her
sex--
out of her blue pleated form
to unfurl
the flower
long since wilted
--a gentle look
--a tender word
--she grasps
--desperately--hopefully
--as if in her
budding days
--to cling to a desire
--an endless wish
to climb upwards
as ivy