Her, Wailing

Haven't heard from you, love -
been on this page for long -
descend -

a first cackle for the door -
your touch again upon the core -
blend -

lend to me a whole new self -
been on this page for so long!

gorges deep - the dark mouth -
accursed dawns; dreamless pits -

nibble away all my hours -
if only I could watch you sleep ...

Loss

I'm so full -
so full of your emptiness.

Hollows,
all hollows -
you swallow
the air I breathe.

Tear, shriek -
you're the peak
I lose my echoes to.

You who are this fog -
how I do see you?

You're blinding my eyes
and I?

I term this loss,
love.

Night After Night

Night after
night after
night after
night -

I pour myself a dying street light.

Night after
night after
night after
night -

he finds me by death; black against white.

Night after
night after
night after
night -

there's the moan of the moon -

there's night, there's night.

His shadow has the heart
to crawl out of sight -
love lingers on the saddle,
dirt like.

The Burning Poem

I

I wait for Time to walk away. I conjure a gun and rest my fingers upon it. This is how I sleep. This is how I sleep.

II

Rub, rub on my chest the truth that I needed from you. Tonight, any ointment is hope.

III

There's a ceiling fan I've jumped into - a rain of soundlessness. Life, not suicide.

IV

I dream of burnt poems and of running through the thick, black forest of Night.
Will you hold my hand, sweetheart? Will you touch a burning poem?

To the Memories I Could Not Have

To all the memories I could not have -
there's this empty space that my heart
always seems to notice.

When I choke at the sight of this emptiness
I plant upon it songs of woe,
I wet the abandoned bench with tears
and sometimes I get pretty unfortunate:
I imagine, imagine, imagine.

His taste. His touch. His words. His wants.

And all the gifts he could melt me with.

To the nothing that pervades my world:
I know I look a sculpture -
there's just black crows that worship me.
I know I appear frozen;
I know you think I do not hear.

Let me have a memory; let me call it mine -
I'd melt into the night before you catch me dying.

Lightning

Lightning planted
across the skies -
still eyes
and the visible current 
of blood -

truth be told
I don't shake anymore -
my trembling from the thunder
is a frozen feeling -
an ice spear
that shreds my insides.

Sometimes, within me,
a shrub matures -
green and frail yet full, so full -

I present it 
an easy death -

uprooting the wreath
with all my might -

I leave it a shorn stem,
a beckoning stem -
lightning like?

In a Dream We Dwell

In a dream we dwell -
memories swell
up the bubble.

A million shells on the shore -
and night quells
their existence.

The double meanings -
this rubble down the road -
slumber and numbers -

the tolling bell -
the rolling shell -
how night quells,
existence?