Thursday, October 22, 2015

land of hard places and stones

between a rock and a hard place
that's a special place to be
the certain comfort of the pressure
the roughness digging into your back
the air you gasped out of your lungs

maybe you, my love, maybe you were there
between a rock and a hard place
the knife at your throat and the crime in your hands

for blessings and curses,
this vision is mine
what is opened is not again closed

the rain was driving hard,
as it does, on our home island
land of hard places and stones
the water ran rivers on your coat
inadequate to the task
on your skin,
pooling through stubble like marsh

you could not do the task
your hand shook, holding that blade
you would not press it to the skin
would not cut

and failure seemed closer
than your lover's breath
than her beating heart

what did you see in that moment?
what drove your desperate words?

i do not know.

only what you spoke,
not what you saw
not what madness, blindless
lust for self destruction
took you when you turned that blade

i do not know.
i have cried out rivers for that madness,
but i do not know.

i only see with eyes
my heart is blind 

the grave was shallow.
it's the way of that place, that land
can't dig deep enough to plant a pot plant.
the grave was shallow,
but the spade wore blisters on your hands
already calloused though they were

and you paused, shovel cast aside
clattered to the cobbles
and turned your eyes to the endless sky
the endless grey of endless rain
like redemption came from there

Eli lamah azabtani?
whose help comes from the hills?

and no help came
none that any sane man would call help

the blade steadied in your hands
i could not see the handle
bone or steel, plastic even
that rough black military grade
i imagine it hard against the heat of blisters
but it did not shake
your hands did not shake
even as you turned the blade
with so much more conviction
the perfect certainty of one
who's made the wrong choice

a shallow grave
is plenty deep enough for a heart
yours lay beating as you kicked the dirt back down
strength not left to shovel
dirtying your boots

and after that,
the madness sinking like fever
to sit in your spine

after that, you had the conviction of your courage
an affinity for sharp stones
the insensitive wildness to grasp for me
and you did, then, the things
that were asked of you

prologue to a vision

who did i anger?
whose wrath comes against me
that the scales were ripped
from my blind eyes
that burning light might enter in

in older days,
girls had excuses
scorned gods and faeries
exacted cruel and exquisite vengeance
on maidens chaste and fair

but in this cold asphalt world
who can we blame?
who brings curses on us,
when our love is filtered
through the glass and blue light screens
and no gods know our names?

and yet
am i not cursed?
does it matter
whose spit cleared my eyes?

Friday, October 16, 2015


the path she walks is circular
trapped in the rooms of her heart
there is only one way
and that way is forever

milk and eggs

this girl
got bold eyes
and she hide them
behind cool shades.
this girl cool.

this girl,
she look at the men
and she look at the women, too
this girl don't care that they see
they see black
they see sky looking back
see their own ideas

don't see them bold eyes
but they know
they feel that
in their skin
the small of their back

shoot through them
that look
those eyes
bold eyes

this girl
she smile
she walk on

a thousand adulteries of the heart
twelve of the mind
milk and eggs
back home for tea 

the infinite rains of her heart

you cannot know
how infinite
the rains of my heart
no kings go to war there
not in this season
not in this rain

no girl shows herself to starlight
there is only rain
the sky is closed

from ages to ages
the rain spatters on the cold glass
and i look out
and no one looks in

i could fill buckets with this rain
buckets with these tears

why store water?
no drought will come

here there is only rain
the ground too soaked to bring forth green