in you, blood magic
in you blood magic in me we are moving through ragged shadows trying to piece together light and sometimes calling it life we mistake the dark for the truth forget the spark and move from youth into the stage where age seems…
Tag: poem
the continuing meal
able to eat the meat meet the lie in the middle dream it isn’t a being that your teeth aren’t sharp for a reason but every so often ghosts seep in and you have to sleep in because nightmares brew it’s what…
bruised apple thinking
not loving the bruised apple philosophy pulling the thoughts at the stem so they do not bruise i place them carefully in a container one apple is brown from being dropped we will store the damage for the winter pretend we have…
pairs
where the truth fails something vital burned down and you have to see it you aren’t building a house of cards you are the pig with bricks so don’t shuffle, step along your heart atop a feather your hand reaching identifying the…
fire between breaths
you have to set fire to your head periodically because it is made of old pages and you can taste the dust do you want to be bookshelves? or are you in nervous fingers at a reading where someone interprets their favourite…
the soundtrack prism
what’s your rhythm? soundtrack prism you are meeting in the tracks you weren’t wax you were mixtapes and mix cds and playlists shared you cared about the music not a greatest hits fan a little pedantic sometimes great at pub quizzes but…
petty political broadcast
petty political broadcast the words aren’t about the people and the war isn’t waged for them either it’s about the business of revenge it’s not served cold here it’s a steaming pile and it smells bad it sounds sad does it even…
the heart of are
you are photocopy tongue swimming in the toner the ink of another’s think plagiarism’s stink some don’t even blink the replay of the motion the emptied out emotion no care, no devotion just replication loose recreation tourists at christ’s last station make…
looking to be
are you looking to be a gumbo? thinking of being a scrapbook? aiming for something jazz? not interested in playing it straight do your boots say it? do your trousers say it? does your shirt say it? does your jacket say it?…
you don’t sing
you don’t sing in public but you know all the words the insecurities satellited around you a halo of disregard those voices drown yours out your volume turned down and you’re fooled into thinking you can’t do without them that they’re a…