infinite in papery moonswhy must I layunder your footin the voluptuoussea? madcaps and glassed eyes her next deathin a million moons I’ve yet to meet; god’s leavetaking, nothing left for youbut a ghost of gardens. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Originally reposted for the dVerse Open Link Night 1/7/21.
Icy thorns in kestrel snow, I gather them for you; plunging ire to your still desert, stave it in illness, black lilies incite the gallows you bring into the ladies of dust if the blood oceanid parts. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Mesmerized by ocean’s rattle,I curl the thorns of the lilyinto the sway of red craters,cracked fossils; the possibilitythat unearths into a singlebloodline, staved in winter’s digits;I’ve cried for shadows offather’s uproots, whilsthe remembers Mother Nature’sfare. © 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Written for the dVerse prompt: Scribble us a poem of possibility using just 44 words, including some … Continue reading Ocean rattle.
with the last flower, traveled and scrawled from our mind—across the sun. the moon cracks and reddens as death comes to stardust. ebony époque hikes to the yellow tourniquets; and in-utero shells, plasma glass, her eyes are mine; maniac moon devours the limb to the stars clotted in bones/rocks. I dream between the blood from … Continue reading last flower.
umbilicus / of this shore / and shattered fingers like clamshells reddened to the body of death / to veteran-ed paralysis / / of beauty / the few fingers of mist / and seas are in pot-lids of darkness; my hands / laboring / are ants to the / father sea / and the stone … Continue reading epicedium to the sea
death is a red coquetteon your father’s fossil armits abyss forgotten and ungrievedinto cosseted veins of poetry,but words mean nothing to you; yellow dreams wept in her darkness,and caitiff of mirrored dust, and bone consumedmoon-wept death in the waves andfingertips of black lilliesnulling marrows in epicediumof the bear’s wintered hibernationthe seasons that sail the sea-skullsof … Continue reading I am a ghost to you.
Content Warning/Trigger Warning: This poem is centered around death, particularly the death of a child. summer, pilgrimage of the ewe; the blood sun breaks upon death— is the symmetry of the flower where an ocean throws the moon’s noose, leaving to the knot of a darker azure? dream, and you might too leave in the … Continue reading (!) This Night.
Alabaster the dissociatedMoon; a blood-hunt of my dreams,death the psychosis, torment the arbitrarymind, I dreamed of the topples ofthunderbirds, medusa-ing mouths of darkness, and finalhairs of serpents to planetaryshivers; and celestial deathof the stars, they translatethe whiteness of hills,goat-herding anesthesiain the sand-cratered moonswithin the dusty womb of Marsleft me my child-selfand I was her. Written for the dVerse … Continue reading her.
I, memory, I, a membrane and ghost meronym to memory and free— I am the thorn of flowers in your mouth, and the foot of the leaf between the limbs of a small tree halved like quarters, and still dying, I, memory, I, a membrane and ghost meronym to memory and free— Ancestress of loss … Continue reading I
in a ghost of the moon; archaic dreams cross the ocean; idled mind the hawthorn spume and Earth’s red moon, estranged to the headstone fare to ash-heaps and dissociation down the bones of beanstalk and the ghost, the moon, reddened mirrors of ourselves to feet of God, light lies … Continue reading earth’s red.