an angel from the sun
who knew when to be lost
she’s benevolent
a cruel season
she began only to end
one day with her
was worth searching for
nothing about her was linear
she ran intoxicatingly
cold plunging into the hearts of her prey
she was found on the last eclipse
making mosaics
writing poems about it
what an imagination she is
How To Be
you see
i know how to be
courteous,
a beggar;
believer
a star in the night
holding me
By the Door of the Music Room
by the door of the music room
what does one do
when sound hums like prophecy
to the rhythm of one’s soul
spoiling all the way home
anointed with myrrh
a finger on the temple
what does one do
by the door of the music room
I Turn Void
Gasping for your air
I turn void
I cave in
Absorbed by your flesh
Seeking words of salvation
a cure to the spell
Fatal devotion
I’ll rage without it
Won’t care about anything else
The Ground Still Loved Me
I’ve been crying hard.
It’s what I do best.
The ground is loved on by the seeds of clouds.
But I’m fragile,
and I soften in explosion.
When I experience grief,
I face it suddenly.
There is no space
— from Repetitions of Ruin
(incantations from the same wound)
Too Small
my heart is tired
she wants to go home
i tried to build her one
but they’re all too small
she never fit
Ripe and Mean
When we went without
I forgot my name
Things were not good
We’d be ripe and mean
We’d beg and fight
Skin splitting
Play tug of war with our faces
Growl through negative space
I am awake
I am awake
I am awake
I plead
insanity
I give
him control
Still
painting him in contrast
Collapsed
When I experience grief
I open and everything enters.
There is no space.
I’m suffocated by spirits.
I’m blotchy, dry, aching.
— from Repetitions of RuinÂ
(incantations from the same wound)
Nest of Sorrow
I just sit in my nest.
And wail and cry and sob.
I’m fragile and I delight in explosion.
At the edge of grief
I’m swallowed by it whole.
— from Repetitions of Ruin
(incantations from the same wound)
Someone
Rooted into my soul,
he was vital, he oppressed
Potent love,
a bold kind.
Violent
His tongue barbaric
Puissant hand in hand
But he needed me.
I needed him—
I was afraid to say.
He held me.
He told me,
he’d keep me safe.
Shielding my power with his power
He was my someone
He was someone
Freegrandmaa 