an
international and interdisciplinary journal of postmodern cultural sound, text and image
Volume 19,
Spring 2022, ISSN 1552-5112
A Description of Chaos et al.
A
Description of Chaos
when
desperation lingers everywhere
on
your tongue and on your mind
to
cry out at midnight
after
the precious deadline to your horror
for
I knew it would come
when
there is a new word to express
your
dark mind higher intelligence
stories
your bared into my blood red heart of blue
to
say I should have been there one hundred percent
my
favorite cliché bleeding truth
so I refuel my dark recess my darkness
like
I catchphrase for what is not perfectly clean
as I
pray for you in still time
there
is no democracy no justice
only
stilted movements as I travel to Nicaragua
the
shape of a foreign name on beige lips
war
caught by my or his fingertips
like
telltale forgotten evidence
spun
out of control
as a
sacred path remains
as
passion was lifted from my skin
I
shake with your memory
tears
have risen from your surfaces
A First Time for Death
the black sands
a memory
a machine gun
an explosion
they call this virgin
territory
like the dangerous side of
the moon
surprised exposed
the silent ripples in the
sands
the beautiful that fades
into a horizon
that repeats itself at
sunset
while his hands keep secrets
A
Kind of Poetry
you
asked me to write you one last poem
one
that was on the horizon of dreams
the
kind I was birthed into
a
poem that licks itself around the brain
screaming
not apathy but careful attention
there
I recall echoes of my childhood and youth
there
a terse shoulder line
there a critical memory
among
all the others
tensions
that crawl carefully up my soul
like
it was purely a physical measurement
speaking
of the stone in my soup
as
if I was ever hungrier
not
a lovemaking but a mark on the world
A
Letter to My Poem, Yourself
when
you said that to me
it
was the March before you wrote your novel
and
I devoured it, I remembered almost every word
like
little bits and pieces shoved into your memory
she
was breathing in that long lifespan of emptiness
shedding
more than a tear
it
was from phrase to catch to darling
that
you spoke to me before you died
that
you called me bliss
declared
that I would be the one
you
whispered beware of Narnia
something
thin I recalled
A
Little Love
emotion
has come to bring me to home
after
a long run
whatever
has been
a
shifting heart faithless
separating
string from string
as
loneliness was a hard edge to pull
stopping
sidewalks and dreams
where
a ghost was saying
learn
from me
whisper
to me of one heartache
that
written in the margins
you
were there
your
brave heart leaping bounds
what
can I really say to you now
that
will meet the passions at the bridge
where
you sold the soul for a little love
an
international and interdisciplinary journal of postmodern cultural sound, text and image
Volume 19,
Spring 2022, ISSN 1552-5112
Notes