there is a
sweet perversion
in this antithesis
of being
a thrumming
echolocating
divine misfortunes
to blossom
writhing on the
innocent skin
of raging wonder

Tell me something I don’t know. Instead of crushing little elegies that stain the soul ashy and bruise the bones. A stuttering rendition of what we lost and how to find the neverland where it fell. We won’t refuse this desecration but we will also not admit it. I am aching for sounds I love like leaves falling and the keys of an old typewriter and your voice. Color me intentional and bury me just under your surface.

occupying the static
bursting along
tentative ossicles
tiny arcs
racing from one
fleeting neuron
to fill the
divisions of thought
before igniting
the next in a
series of micro deaths
to pleasure
the sinful burning
of incidental sighs

We should never confuse silences with fragility, they are deep purple skies and glimpses into the steady beat of a heart. Human condition, people who love pay the price for those who didn’t. We can feel when we are forgotten, what reminds us we can never be enough. The fickleness of being isn’t something we can avoid, it just strikes hard when we least expect it. I am feral with no name, primitive and buried under fall leaves. Healing is bursting into flames sometimes.

a saturation of
tenebrous passion
a storm of ashes
on the fell wind
tenuous in the throes
of this exotic
quixotic malaise
pinprick transmissions
across perennial
heartstutters
breathless yet willing
happily consumed
an elation of
sublime cremation
an inversion
becoming whole

We are a small step away from words splitting us in half after life’s inconsistencies inch their way between our sensibilities and the way we looked at each other yesterday.

EC is my favorite poet and person. she never fails to take my breath away.