Category Archives: Writing

orpheus

when the virus and i get lost in my house
of mirrors no attention and small memory
peep holes
the sky lies
me back down for the fungi
to bungy a few thousand years
but my carbon gets around like karma
and i’m eventually young
walking on old streets pretending
oh i’m borges in buenos
aires on some actual night
one century in november
buying cigarettes and
turning wine into fire
before the endless museums
and libraries
the mirrors and smell memories
when ixora grew in the house
but i wasn’t home to know it

nyxpression

or redream your face

in water’s indecisive surface

fills obsidian vase

set centrally of wooden table

painted cracking white

.

to lick your teeth again

and tip turmoil over

and bow to blindness

tasting orange instead

either of those hot air balloons

roar

.

am i ivy?

were veins of you

ever antonyms –

did we even see

each other’s hands?

.

gasping and dancing

sweat of forest air

beads on spider threads

melting aviaries of mercury

.

frozen of viridian

uncontained sky bleeds out

in stranger’s memory