I didn’t want to know it anymore.
the perfume asleep, having flowers to cease as i now subsume tragedy beyond the wisp of her lips phantasmagorical stillness yet adorns to me her eyes of stone.
I sit alone; I was tired of my penetralium and id frozen in aureoled chokes, harassing me to the shadows
I pick the miracle of solitude pushing myself away from others; the garden feels my shame
no one can get me no one can be the thief but the moon
glasspetals are fingers in the moonrise and sun-veins
for the stars i lie diminish i see the moon fled the rain, death poising swiftly, & unspeaking
a seed wasted as a poet hangs a tree was it me I don’t know
i will let your name climb upon my body and head until i am no more.
Fire flowers curl their toes under the snakes in my chest “petaled girl” for eyes and their liars
I’ve lived on the leafstalk and moon-groves, before I peeled back my mind
I spin upon the lapis sea, a fool a vulturous moon which a woman bruits her blood and lips
A sun recoils to the grown tree climbing my skin, then vanishing between the moon and death’s stigmata
Swaying in cool roots of white, I feed the earth from my hands and bones; the moonglow
summer, pilgrimage of the ewe; the blood sun breaks upon death— is the symmetry of the flower where an ocean throws the moon’s noose, leaving to the knot of a darker azure? dream, and you might
Wrist in the woodland dying alone in marcescence
Left like the waves to death alone
Love; hate, lies go both ways.
At that moment the world seemed to fit a glimpse of your eyes. Your embrace is my gravity.
Worry’s the advance Interest that you pay