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with thanks to salingerAudio version.
it's on those cold mornings
when you are nothing but indrawn breath
swirling and knitted up inside too-big
skin and weightless bones--
when the horizon arches up against
the half-thawed tendrils of sunrise
and smiles
with golden teeth,
and smiling, begs--
it's on those cold mornings
when leaving is easiest.
the car will be cold, and you will
shiver, and the engine,
much too loud,
will smack of blasphemy
but you will find peace in the steady roll
of tarmac and the yellowing light
spilling across it,
with dust motes kicked up and carried
like fish in the undertow.
when you come to that first
crossroads, it will shock you:
the way the decision hangs there
trembling and desperate--
but there are no right answers and you will not
hesitate. and each successive choice
will be made of its own accord,
and you will roll the windows down,
and draw down the scent of ear

for a boy with bird boneswoven fern around his wrists

he slept through the winter like a sparrow

woke up with the moon, & the sun

the same one

lying on his broken back

bitty arms, & eyes full of oak

i bit into you, & i choked

you were so sweet, you were so sweet

you were exactly like me

i opened your quiet mouth

left you in the dark

wished you luck

little one, you're still too close to call away

i can't have you tomorrow or today

the ashes on the porch grow, & the chill in the wind blows

my little darling, you're sane

you've always been.

you tried to carry me through fire to

save my pastel skin, but i

melted so easily; i blushed until i was

burnin

I Only KnowThere are at least
thirty-seven thousand ways
to get from here to there.

here,
where your body fits
next to my body, your breaths
match my breaths; your
escape-
paradise, sanctuary, utopia-
surrounds my escape.

there,
where you and I are not
the same; where your edges
break against my smooth,
your rises coalesce with
my falls, your
d i s t a n c e s
clatter against my presence.

thirty-seven thousand ways
at least,
but I only know one.

I only know the way the thumping
of your heart leads to the pressing
of our lips-
I only know the here and there that
pales, insignificant
to

the you and me.

the girl who didn't get shoti am all aches and pains and coffee stains--
am i the smell before rain, the blood in your veins?
my life is composed of memories and scraped-up knees,
failed attempts at surgeries
of my mind and of my heart, of whatever stops me
when i'm trying to start.

i am all the shores they never graze, that haze
when the sun burns rainwater on roads.
i may feel warm but know this--i get cold,
i get frozen stiff and when i'm bent i won't fold.
the marrow of my bones hold blue-grey skies,
murkier than the rampant clouds in your eyes
but when i'm rib-caged i still have someplace to fly.

i am all the forlorn poets, for i've lungs and a tongu

inadequateyou can try to preserve people
in stories, in books, in poetry,
in formaldehyde,
but it will not make them breathe
again. it will not make them the person they were
or those things they did;
it will not sound right
and it will not seem right,
because
it isn't right. you miss
the details or at least the right ones:
people are not made of hearts and lungs and limbs
they are ankles and hands and tongues and eyelashes
they are fire and fury and friction and fear.
i cannot say that i miss you the way you want me to.
i can't. just can't.
and that is the difference between you and me:
you say what you think you're supposed to and i,
well,
i don't say much at all.

Sewer-Rat SentimentsWhen every ounce of
all you hold precious
begins to
rust like
"under-resourced"
men's tin roofs
and all your memories are but
floating along
the slum area
streets
towards the sewage
amidst another
frightening
flash flood

When all your aches
and woes
resurface with
all the time you've spent
wallowing instead of solving and
you realize
too late how
right now
you are
repeating the same
sick cycle
and that cynical is
the only way you
know how
to cope
to kill
your dreams
your soul

When each day is a
reminder of
how poor you'll always be
in your reflection
and
in your heart
your will
to live is
about as sturdy as
your s

Euros' InfernoIn a smoke blanket
mistaken for overcast, he
wraps us –
the wind, undoing –

and the old gum tree writhes
against him, but
we sit inside
with our homes on fire.

systemhe said that one day I,
who have grown accustomed
to accumulating moons,
drawn like moths
to my Venus-brightness,
would meet my match.

he told me I would be
captured by the brilliance
of a star,
a Betelgeuse, a behemoth:
supergiant turned supernova turned
supermassive black hole.

he informed me, peeking out
from under my gravity,
his erratic elliptical orbit,
that one day I would be
swallowed up

and that it would be poetic justice.

wordless birdthere was a boy

with bird bones

he never spoke

he stared at me until

i fell in love with him

woke

up with him

he listened to me until

i ran away from him

he was a little bird who

never said a word

forever agoif you were mine

i would cling to the stardust & whisper "divine"

in your earlobes.

probe sand & skew water

for the inkling of a daughter in

your interwoven nest

of a chest

free in spirit

mind blown by the covers of

autumn leaves- free fingers cannot please

promises

i hold unto the thought of this

& if your eyes are wide & ever changing

let me emphasize them- darling

let me be your thoughts

rearranging

I dream of DamascusDearest anon,
Kindly claim that bejeweled dagger and, as I feel the cold blade keenly on my nape, I ask you to cleanly cut through
Liberate me from my crowning glory, my shackles called femininity
At long last, I am released, relieved of my braids, my chains

Finding my own, I set free the nightingale caught up in her cage,
Hoping that someday I will once again hear her bird-songs of my bit of Bilad El Sham, my Suriyah

Desert me in Damascus,
Allow me to wander and totter to quench my thirst, solve my hunger and salve my wounds
Permit me to, as my vision blurs, simmer from sand and sun and sink myself in my own mirage of an oasis meant only

Aurora (Borealis)The vermilion sky melted and slipped
into a barely muddied, ruddy hillside
powdered-sugarcoated, vanilla ice-whipped

The vivacious glory-of-the-snow
sabotages the dead silence of the season
with its vehement, blue-violet glow

Know that I see the gleaming aurora in
your laugh lines, life lines
in the palms of your hands and
pads of your feet, unfurling the unsaid
The north star becomes
a cardinal bindi on your forehead
Know that I feel you are heaven-defined
prophecies pressed into my spine

You want to whisper across my tips and capillaries
breathe in sky-blue butterflies, out sea-green envy
I want to compass through your crust and

lolitai am jane doe's naked knees,
shaking but still standing
bruised but still standing
swearing it's not
weak ankles to worry about it's
those goddam knees,
miss,
we have crooked
wires,
and
bad chemicals
quit thinking you're made of
iron when
you're really mostly
clay,
so
impressionable
(all skin, cartilage,
blood and nerves -
god,
it's only natural to feel)

dismantledyou're too bad, too m
u
c
h, using my heart as your
c
r
u
t
c
h. who knew human beings could
hurt each other by the softest t
o
u
c
h, so deeply
and so very, very
m
u
c
h.

it is a little strangei am

s
p
i
r
a
l
i
n g

and i am apologizing
because i never meant
to drag you down
with me

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More from *hazeltown

let me growi am growing

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i'll be hidden in the south (inwardly)

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try to tell her there's something left

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haze rain

by *hazeltown, Jan 10, 2013, 6:21:54 PM
Literature / Poetry / Emotional / Free Verse

she is empty inside her bud she blooms until the suds of the sea gather around his skinny knees she wants to hear the sum of everything ring around her rosemary country side i'm a little alive inside if anything else is right, can you carry me through the world with you? i'm not alright inside i'm not bright enough to ignite you, i'm too weak to fight you i'm never alright. you woke up in the middle of night i watched the sun rise you watched the stars align i waited for the call you waited through the fall you were my antidote, you were my vital sign be my somebody i'm so lonely be mine, little love i'm not alright inside