Of ardency

Condemned to abeyance I lament the ever sentimental fool Reproved by my otherwise libertine sinews My hearts crown jewel Cupid’s prodigal daughter Debauchery’s unseen enemy She is crushed velvet and arid petals Mercury glass and utopian whimsy Collector of letters Patron saint In the cult of fervency She is a maudlin harlequin Pervasive in the […]

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sophisticated chaos

the systematic sophistication of chaos in defense of reincarnation — I was drafted in the mingling of ennui  and half moon martini olives drifting in the hapless mendacity of some tepid soirée at some darkened apartment in some listless city I stood in the foyer hoping to be mistaken for a Grecian urn a Trojan […]

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End note to a ghost

— End note to a ghost When cowards are sent In lieu of flowers — Stay out of my cemetery, boo This sanctuary Of solemnity is not for you Kindly clamor those chains over a different grave Something a little more in line With the consecration of your own kind Potter’s field, asylum basement Perfect […]

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mecca

Time bleeds and eventually We become the archaeologist’s dream We become mecca So few ever realizing That we are the discoveries Inherent of a rare planet On this serious earth We are the buried treasures Born of stars and roving eyes Of pleasures impregnable Inconceivable to the ants Massacred in droves With each bare footed […]

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a love that had no end // too good

October 2nd, 2017 was the last text. 4:39 a.m. Eastern Standard Time. — “you awake?” — I stayed up late just in case you needed me. I missed the message by mere minutes. Your mother would be boarding a plane in the morning. She missed you by mere hours. I’ll never understand why. There’s supposed […]

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| Whiskey Lullaby |

In an era of little more than mayhem Of rattlesnake bites and violent delights Of war cries and whiskey lullabies A duo stood prepared to duel Betwixt the gritty milieu Of makeshift tombstones Rotted driftwood crosses strewn Among precarious blooms of kingcup High noon rays unabashedly splayed Across the Mojave cliff sides Shadows loom like […]

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With the agony of Keats

I want to be acquainted esoterically With the wilting agony of Keats I want a feverish apex in Italy To end with metaphysical conceit I want to aspirate on avarice I want the Reaper’s lust To be ravenous I want to succumb To a sickness of lung I want to be a poet of unspeakable rarity […]

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Hymn of the Flowers

She sings to the beebalm A hymn that rightfully upends The heathens in the heliotrope She bends the milk thistle with song A migratory melody that subdues The naysayers in the nightshade With lyrical alchemy An adagio of psalms She calms the devils in the delphinium A refrain that reconciles the roses With the tyranny […]

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Death to Lust

Elegy to fantasies, proven false— Awoken in the clemency of dawn A jagged horizon doused with vagrant elegance The sun pours itself without a hint of contempt For the repetition of cosmic chore Fragmenting through umber drapes A muddied hypnosis, box fan billowing Coquettish, butterfly kissing The splinters of a sagging windowsill Oriel crop dusted […]

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Because it isn’t words.

A person who thinks all the time Has nothing to think about except thoughts So – he loses touch with reality And lives in a world of illusions By thoughts I mean specifically Chatter in the skull Perpetual and compulsive repetition Of words, of reckoning and calculating   I’m not saying that thinking is bad […]

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everything’s roses

The Rose Tree by William Butler Yeats — ‘O words are lightly spoken,’  Said Pearse to Connolly,  ‘Maybe a breath of politic words  Has withered our Rose Tree;  Or maybe but a wind that blows  Across the bitter sea.’  ‘It needs to be but watered,’  James Connolly replied,  ‘To make the green come out again  […]

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of rambling roses

born in the fever dreams of Degas dainty brushstroke delineations conceived surreptitiously on a canvas of ephemeral linen heavy with striated tenderness in the pallor of blushing brides petite parfum ballerinas their arabesque stems gathered in enormous, trussed bouquets  bespoke of cherubs the ceremonials of flowers an unspoken dowry of buds clutched for the sake of […]

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Till death do us part (Love exists)

Love is a sonnet recited over the speakers of a slaughterhouse. It does not smell the blood nor scrutinize the saw’s. It does not save us, nor can it. It distracts, temporarily. In moments of abject terror. A peripheral ode. White noise in a horror show. Played on the assembly line. To the most vulnerable […]

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The Mortician’s Goddaughter Versed in Lust

The Mortician’s Goddaughter Versed in Lust by Rigoberto Gonzalez https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/rigoberto-gonzalez Just when I had long outgrown those late-night            seizures in my hand, those involuntary impulses return to make my fingers twitch like the tips of twigs             after the bird leaps off the branch— what a crafty little devil, bouncing back all             feathered […]

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love notes to ghosts

it started subconsciously waxing poetic to the dearly departed imploring return a posthumous pardon my kaleidoscope heart beckons a beloved once a lustrous art nouveau peridot severed arc’s of molten gold inevitably darkened without him fractured panes of caustic black glass sterling asunder beveled imperfections bereft of tenderness fleeting glimpses of his reflection the sweet […]

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parallel paramour

  never ask who I was, or where I went to let there be no questions, looming in your pretty mind, on restless nights your lean arms branched above your head, an extension of self as if grasping for something, someone in tangles of white organic cotton sheets that have never enjoyed the weight, of a […]

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pole dancing for poltergeists

in a haunted house i reside a sanctuary for the seances midnight conducted for you the futile rituals of a prolific poetess incense smoldering graveyard hymnals prayers for apparition north – west – east – south four corners calling and your stubborn spirit refusing to appear despite my desire for conjuring “you said you’d come back […]

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a morning just like any other morning

February. I awoke on a morning just like any other morning. It was a week day. It was humid and overcast outside. It was absolutely unremarkable. My two year old daughter had climbed into my bed sometime around 4 a.m. I eased out of slumber and gained a gradual cognizance of my dimly lit bedroom. […]

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