Filed in Gather Writing Essential by on August 1, 2009 0 Comments






wish i was what you wanted


it’d be easier than

sitting here cursing you gods,

pining to reach for your sky.

crouched in a troubled hunker.


sensing some deity’s frolic;

pitting the pieces to thunder…

lightning: sand to glass.

likely: man to ash.


i seem damned to catch

dregs from my own head.

instead of her questing hand,

pale under drained veins…


only my eyes understand.


but my lips are knitted;

the slit is knotted.

-i want to press her wrists

and blot them

with this quizzical kiss…


it’s a trap for godlings:


to be clapped in irons

for one’s rash responses

to the massive goddess.

or sit and wish as he clasps a goblet.

in a masquerade with

bared face, dazed…


to be matched with sirens

for a black despondence.




a ravenous hazardous cadaver-inducing haggard disputing bastard loose

under the mask,

under the mask,

he hates the mask–



he snaps at the castle guard,

battles his way past and takes back

all that he came back

to this grey slab




bores into her soul–glimpse cast across inches

(their blades halve

pores, chipping bone)–hints passed across instants…

embittered eyes laughing as he sags to the floor…



it matter at all?

that he crawl

to her hem

his stitched lips

finding alabaster skin?



her blood rush

to the brushed bundle

of veins

near the straps

of her hemp

sandals, enflamed?



his gaze empty in six infinite seconds?

hang in her mind until the end of

a time with exits to enter?

with a hex in its center?

for the press of magenta?

and the message within it?


                                                          -under Heaven, his wishes

                                       spin, as do



                                               until lost

                          in the heather.









About the Author ()

I am a human being.I am a Champion/Idealist.I am lost.

Leave a Reply