From the 2018 Collection "The Dead Dog Parish"
#deaddogparish #intuition #pattern
There, upon the loose dirt, I was a stone’s throw from her, Goddess Incarnate. She had snakes for hair, she had green flames for eyes,
Pretend like your hell is the new normal. Now the space is calm, and poignant, and telling.
Therein are the spoils of sorrow, the fruit of hardship, where wind snaps and prevails. Death whispers a hollow secret and I still a shiver
Mowing with the sickle I stop abruptly and remember crawling out the window to smoke on the roof
Finally alone, I lie with a volum… I venture again to hear the injunc… normally I savor their sensitivity… but tonight all I can think about
In the most lovely of lands, before a backdrop of mountains and palms, there hangs a pall— All my Loves
Nothing is all I ever wanted, now I’ve got it all! Careful! Lest I become a braggart… From nowhere it’s a hard fall.
Ancient meadow preadolescence, burgeoning and righteous never-ending dimension first sighted past your fingertips… is stolen by ambition,
Needless of a judge, a contrite heart is a bird suspended on a current, shifting myriad planes without asking or telling.
When the world wasn’t burning I felt optimistic that one day I could come home
Trees poke from the earth like the mummified hands of the martyrs. Buried alive, they strained with last breath
A tide of blood, miniature in compare— But an ocean no less, to the virus in there.
Hell came through on battered wings, and thought to ask just one last thing. That If I could,
That one more, chasing the dragon, carrot dangling,
Want nothing from people and receive their myriad blessings Expect from them and find an empty well Eat less than a ghost