I am but space a cluster of mess; my skin full of chemicals that has let hurricanes in and planets and scars like plastered wax stuck to my chest. I am the white sclera the peeling film of tired eyes; I am sinew of bones that make up home with feelings reaching from the praline …
Autumn: We leaned into the last few shards of August’s crisp edges Poetry was flowing from the finger tips of lovers The sheet music was richer to flatter the coming season My chest was swelling with gratitude for moments I’d been given I sat amongst the gardens of no agenda - no needs Pulling the …
Don't ever let them hate on your body for it is a striking mosaic of bones a relic of desire, peppered with nostalgia- wiggling hips like a dog bounding from the riverbed. Your belly button is deep and soft a likeness to a shellfish- your skin is fuzzy and uncharted and your fungus white …
These are crystallised visions
Dancing too close.
Instruments of the deep blue;
Fish hook kisses,
Raging rip-tide tongues.
These lights are an alien sky
Scoop music or
Struggling spirits –
Slipping, yolky through florescent fingers –
Into steel-basin chests.
Phosphorous, unbound waves take us
Swaying in its swell of salt.
If we vomit tonight,
It’ll be jellyfish
Blubbery and full of washed up wishes.
Hips swing in rings of infinity
The Steady, instinctual pattern of bees
“Honey” They mouth;
Choked women’s voices
All those messages bottle-necked,
Annexed in Adams apples.
Tribal painted we chant
A song unknown to us
Possessed by the drums and
Something ungendered and primal-
Sequined wings exposed
To hungry hands.