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.
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
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.
In their dying in their shadows I will see your eyes. As the blood-flow of living things, dear white shells and white bone fall into the ground, mama’s bony fingers whiten the earth, where all else fades and leaves; daddy glissades in the ice picking flowers for us all, and soon they fade and all … Continue reading in their dying, in their shadows.