assorted writings:
new & selected poetry

light
cotton clam cries
a map of the desert
lips to the stone
the liquid jet
encompass
index

l i g h t

back then
i walked into walls
my angels
were faltering

your hand
hemmed my veil
and i fell
into collapse

i knew you only as
heat meeting ice
a sharp pain
a half bitten memory

but now
that i'm gone
i see you
clearly

now you
fall through walls
your angels
are walking

i love you more
than i can say
with these words
that you gave me

you hold
my veil in your hands
and i know
what that means now

as your hand
cups my forehead
and my past
falls away

back to top

encompass

I lift my hands
to the morning
and the birds of twilight
sing your song

I drag my dead husbands
back to their graves
and spend the day
rewriting my dictionary

Your presence, absence
reconfigures the clocks
I spin their hands
and seek you out in dreams

I move across deserts
daily, daily
and plead with the sea
to bring you peace

back to top

cotton clam cries

the dead rose spits
her petals
inside me

her iron thorns pin
me between
her teeth

your bottled water is
of no
use here

as I moan inside
a shroud
of sheets

back to top

a map of the desert

On
your
palm
I
place
a
plain
of
pleasures
detailed
with
all
the
slow
ways
in


back to top


lips to the stone

they say you?ve built
an altar to your madness

blind as I am
I know they are wrong

deaf as you are
you stand in the doorway

unable to hear
my sole siren song

back to top

The Liquid Jet

We sit in this
Blank walled room
How long
Before you pull it out
And balance that
Small white rocket
On the tip
Of my forefinger.
We converge upon it,
Lick spit,
And then we?re
Hand in hand,
Running down the valley
Into the forest.

The trees are flaming.
We move so fast
The ants become airborne
And lose their way.
Who cares for the ants?
We can only sense
The big things:
The overpowering smell
Of fresh oranges,
Each other
Your body is a
Blue flame now,
Like gas,
Catching.
As the jets blow over us
My vision tunnels,
Fills
With the sight of
Felt tipped thoraxes
Whipping in the wind.
I look over my shoulder
And see black clouds
Pulsating towards us.
It?s coming down.

I grip the edges
Before they explode,
Close my eyes as
The liquid jet
Detonates,
Shooting
Hot meteorites
Through my skin,
My thighs,
Before I turn back and see
The raven sky
Raining stars
Finally,
Finally.

back to top

Return to the Assorted Writings Homepage


Subscribe to film-optimist

This site has been visited times


+ Return to film page ..+ Return to homepage ..+ Go to guestbook