Photo by Gabriel P on Unsplash

Wrath, wrath, and flame!

The small and delicate creature
clutches me by the throat and

dares to ask if I am who I claim,
and I, powerless to speak, burst

into laughter and want to say if you
have been in love you’ll know how

to fall, senses alert to the height and
vicious feeling of a heartbeat in your

hands, but I can only repeat what
poets know, do not go gently into

Wrath, wrath, and flame!

It will become a way of being slowly
at first then written for all time as our

chests jut from the edge of stone one
arm straight to heaven and the other

to the boneyard where no fires burn
but still I hold the sword while you

slide into song and the crows weep as
love you’ll find only grows old in the

Wrath, wrath, and flame!

--

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Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

I came to art like
the calamity of hours

forget-me-nots leaving
no trace nor cup to sip
the strain fading listen
to the clay defy the light

it means something

the secret will crack you
open cover you with earth
and forest like the rafters
of heaven become shadows
of some fast and heavy fire
or a sadness so wonderful it

fleets

birdlike

through the

pain you’d kill for
more than can be
held at once and
there it settles on
the warm bread of

your heart

is my heart

too

(this is the secret)

what fun if promises
can’t be broken what
art without giving it
away veiled only in
spirits shy but ready
to strike the beast of
the wood yet we’re
the wild ones not at
war but righteous
still in refusing to
leave for we must

enjoy each other

one more time

--

--

Photo by Austin Chan on Unsplash

the sign cracked my
skull split it grapewise I

think it said sleep with fire
and kiss like you believe

the wind laughed in huge
letters blew my glasses

clear across the field tell
me if you find them I

would dearly love to
see it again

--

--

Photo by Vlad Hilitanu on Unsplash

painted jigsaw
evening dress

pulling me home

to a bed
it took years to discover

a back-curve murmur
sitting on my tongue

porcelain swallows
wings tucked

we race to the garden

where you bathe
my mask invisible

and promise
to kiss the boundary

until I can breathe

--

--

Photo by Carl Jorgensen on Unsplash

I am a strand
an unaccustomed toy

charming as a vase

the night breathes in
forgets the lake

kindred being
find me in the crowd

I’ve come again
to blindness

the one short of youth and
the faint clink of horsemen

open the lock
see the morning

our position just so

on a ledge your anger
moves

I hide in the silver passage

the one between us where
love doesn’t take sides

you’re holding my hand and
I want to know why

you’re not going to let me
fall you say

but how can you be sure

the colors are vast and light
abounds

full of hope
I see you in the clouds

let’s lay down and remember

let’s glisten until no witness
remains

--

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