Wednesday, April 29, 2009

untimely memories

An aged memory tugs against the sheets, hardly breathing, trembling against the dark that contained it. Flashing, more flashing, forgoing space and time, it asked:
What season kissed death and brought it to life?
What vowel fell illegitimately only to speak serenely of novelty?
What tear survived and quenched earth’s desire for water?
What ponderous sin set the world in order?
What was spoken but was never said?
A younger memory coyly replies: That season and that vowel birthed hope
It glowed, shimmering, burning to the touch
Leaving ashes to the wind
That tear and that sin offered forgiveness, so sweet and yet poisonous
Silently humming to the wind

It said nothing but sank against its flesh, before realizing it never said anything.

Some memories just die, prematurely.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009


their distant words grow faster, and faster than emptiness, then emptiness. The words feign themselves as illusory, artificial-like extension
cords wrapped around warped outlets. at the sounds of explosion -- not real -- wounded butterflies die in bellies. round, flat, shimmering. they yearn for other words, silently.
misery must have driven those words. real words in a strange world.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

demon love

before we love, we must love love
before we love love we must
chase demons
up skyscrapers
down coffins
across dreams
near annihilated beauty
--the consequence of breathing backward--
and into fridges

think in cold abstract terms

understand that demons are vulnerable
then stutter and sigh