This is not a drill

This simulation is not as the former

this dreadful trumpet

you’ll be the death of me yet

across the littered ground

(again, the choice is/was yours)

where you will find everything you need

this simulation is not as the latter

I’ll send for the dreadful trumpet

that is,

I meant to say

I’ll send for the doctor

this was not a simulation

Shit the bed

reality fail



Kisses from Boreas

After some twenty of them

had been disposed of

during the waning moon

with costumes and masks and enchantments

he now wished he had not sacrificed his sons


they would never throw themselves down weeping

to die of grief

we have to rise

just as vegetation dies only to reappear in the springtime

what’s wrong with the way I kiss? Asked the winter wind


i replied even as I thanked Boreas

in the deep of my heart

for the sweet relief from the smoke and flames

then it was

during the waxing moon

when costumes are removed

masks unmasked

enchantment is revealed

and winter is come

An Island Arises

Clothed in lavender and rosemary boughs

iridescent orbits delight and entrance

coconuts and bongos interrupt the tranquil sight

volcanic stones make my tread light

I’m naked and unrepentant

rushing up an island arises to blight the whole scene

reeking of garden oils, flowers and clean

laughing, splashing all along I was just bathing!


He allowed himself

to be

carried away

by the massive hallucinations

he had produced

and why not?

he asked

of the wallpaper and drapes

bees fly,

birds glide,

balloons loft

and pollen….disperses

so too my sights

my visions

shall smear across the sky

shattering the retinas

of all who watch

he was a wizard and a magician

a necromancer and a king

he was a Hollywood producer

and his vision governed most everything

I’m not, I can’t

I’m not dreaming this sense of allegory

I’m not imagining this sense of melancholy

dark robed figures swing scimitars

in grain filled fields of wheat and oats

death is in the harvest

bloated bodies line the streets

no cart, no crier, no relief

i can’t make up the raging anarchy

I can’t unsee the sight of destiny

if this should be when we bid each other adieu

recollect the times I tried to put my arms around you

forget the times my temper flew

in passions flames I will collect your ashes

but there’s not enough to bury beneath the tree of life

good bye my darlings

and good night


Sway branches creak

all night long

in the frolicsome storm

I remember your voices

and the ceaseless chanting of your leaves

sing to me your stories

on the autumn winds

rock me in your arms

until the world never ends

Her face

Her face looked gaunt and old

her body bloated more

each time I saw her

she thought she could block up the door

with a pendant of the goddess of disappointment

entwined around her neck

on a silver chain rich with tarnish

divorce and disappointment clotted every door jam

she was only so angry

because nobody loved her anymore

I don’t live with her

Like ivy

my love puts fingers into every crack

that her despair left behind

I would rather tear the structure down

than to live with her old corpses




i breath you

you caress me

hold me

hot or cold

every minute is you

your quality dictates mine

you send my voice far

or rip my words from my throat


i meet you

you greet me

as I pierce your skin

you negotiate my cells

plumping me make me more than dust

so we drink each other


i tread you

you uphold me

you are the grit of my teeth

as I ingest you

in all your mineral glory

you will one day eat me in my entirety


i worship you

you warm me

or beat me into blisters with you flames

without you I am form without function

slower slower until I still

mind stops all movement cease

you are my passion and I am wild with you

I am statuary without you


i acknowledge you

you laugh at my knowledge

like a toddler who realizes her cognizance

in the floating of a feather

and that memory courses through all thought

even in the null of the void

it is just me laughing at my own realizements

thats all it’s been all along


Not even awake

Not even awake

six a.m. Has come

sleep is no more

yet it is

it is the nobility of dawn

the integrity of doing

what for me

has not ever been

done before





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