so angry i could puke.
you are engaged now.
she is like pocahontas, and i
am just a childish haole who
took refuge inside the bruise of a memory.
why can’t i give you up?
on that fatal night, we were
kootenai lightning.
chinook chinook chinook, whispered like curse through the ghost’sgrass.
(tonight, the meaning of it all snags
my heartwood.)
Surrogate Lore
within my paralysis, each
wince is murked.
they always told me i had
no grit, no girth,
that i velcroed myself to
any offered fever.
all my prayers are hinged
to a feigned prophecy.
and every instinct is
a lunate- lipped liar aching
to unlinch itself.
in my gown of lidded silt,
i scalp our genesis.
under the slurred algae my hands
cherish no messiah.
all my hair and the dead meadow lark
are bungee-strapped
under a cheap blue tarp.
and placenta thrushes
into the water like cough-syrup.
my brother unhooks me
from the sickle moon’s snare.
like a savage, he cuts
the cord that fostered neglect.
tumor feasting
The pigeons hunt me.
Beaks dive towards my puffy tonsils.
Harpooned.
My howling – harsh as
a violin without resin.
This is where our antebellum
crippled itself - my favorite
gingham apron sewn into a gurney.
This is where a strange war
hatched like a colony of tadpoles.
Now we scuffle, muted under
the stairwell.
I am hindering your cries with
a plug of pumpernickel bread.
Welding your throat shut with ponderosa sap.
We listen to their battered
wings lift and hook -
Scavenging for canker sores.
Lend me the pocketknife you showed me that night.
when you whispered “I would hunt him down”
Lend me that pocketknife so i can
give myself gills and swim to you.
his pearly semen surging
in the magnum of my belly,
always.
sometimes i shove my
sticky hand down my throat
just so i can taste the filth
again.
exorcising pus-white scabs
your absense drones in and in.
before they scalped you
the sky swooned felicity blue.
with you i stayed
wet for days.
all your lionlike strength
clutched like velcro
to my hips.
if it could,
my teasing tongue would
stroke your freckled jawline;
drag across your
broiled brown sugar skin.
do you remember when grit
reverberated like a savage chant
between us? -
forcing the mattress-springs to
howl and swoon.
mercury is in snyc
with every satellite.
the whales moan -
maori bone.
and i am swelling in
the whale’s silver belly
with gepetto, with noah.
within the tide,
the slipper-fish stutter
in one glossy throng.
i slit gills across my throat.
i fuse with the resonance
i glide through
anemic echos to you.
bed-lamb
everthing within me is
mellowing, static.
as hospital curtains swaddle me
inside an angora yawn.
i am the bed lamb
coddled in my cotton pajamas
morphine spreads like
vaseline through cream
the i.v. thread
whimpers your name:
cashmere sighing through me:
with a muffled plush - never healing.
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alex-ivy: I don't really have a question to ask, but I'll preface this by saying that I'm a Creative Writing major, if that makes any difference. I just stumbld onto tumblr a week or so ago and have found most of the poetry to be pure twaddle. Yours is the fist I've found that moved me the way poetry should. It's powerful. You really have talent, and I know as a writer it's always nice to hear that. Even from a stranger.
Awh, thank you for bringing a big smile to my day! The few messages I have received like this really strike a chord within me. Although, I doubt the value of my poems. And always end up deleting them… I do agree with you about the Tumblr writing community! The most popular poetry blogs seem to be poor in quality. (?) …. Thank you for your taking the time to write me :)
fourteen years old -
i was slung like honey in the
hammock of his hands;
lust pounds in the corner of the stair-cellar.
biting on the cool stone of his earring.
my vulnerability fuses with his savage mouth
pressed against the door frame, kissed.
a rushing sway of logic
a forbidden fever
i will always be
too young
too fragile
for him.
he will always be gone
by the time
my fists
throb
against the door.
(Source: no-osborns)
