In two moons, a pseudoknot is in my blood begging to close about my last breath it wasn’t the echoing of gargoyles in our death-beds wandering our roots taken more by wiles and gutted solstice endless in your eyes I know you’re killing me © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved. Written for the 3/22/2021 dVerse quadrille … Continue reading (!)Two moons.
Tag: Writing
bliss or suffering.
Phantasmagoricred gold,last breath to bind themor myself–I’m not sure; a shadow is a shadowthen so am I until I vanishinto the winter of the bears,I ask that you do not find me; I want to be played by tragic lutes,the first scene like the half of breadthe last scene, the final act to the sipof … Continue reading bliss or suffering.
slowdown.
Down, down, down the riverside. The air went dead. I suspended above the ivy waves in silence, entering into the belly indigo. Water had now been a cold darkness and I was trying to part myself from the waves above—that only seemed to inundate me further. I uttered few words I could remember or understand. … Continue reading slowdown.
(!) billowing.
Disturbs in grave repentance cracking upon the ocean’s rattle,buckling swords like a python’s tongue, madness I billowin the dusk, drysalter’s poison that pierces me in battlea fool’s dance sparred, soon falling as a leaf of willow;the razor edge of fate, wearing bone and caitiff dustin father’s displease, death tantrums veins of the ghostlauded violence in … Continue reading (!) billowing.
lies.
for the starsi liediminish i see the moonfled the rain, deathpoising swiftly, & unspeaking,a poet crowsspun a wind, shuttingyourbeautiesin the spring-said of earthindigomy skin, I rise so no onesees meone womanbirth,subsumedbut eyesI lie with themeasy. © 2021 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.
Ghost of gardens.
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.
Ionad.
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.
Ocean rattle.
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.
last flower.
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.
Modernities.
isolate the modernities carnations touch the wind, mocking them, like a cigarette in the abandoned sunlight, the entropy, monstering god-like shores fragmenting ends of the mind, traversing the watery rock for the sea, the mouth left behind from the cave, teeming with blood; the mountain defines the reflection in your eyes, where have you been? … Continue reading Modernities.
