Vox Nocturne

Thinking of your lips tonight
all your pretty words
Oh, I remember each one
your beautiful elegant lies
Web weaving
Silken strands
So easy to tear through
false futures spun from fantasy
crumble to dust
with the slightest disturbance
and holding ashes
I convince myself
that was real, that was real, that was real

Oh but I get it
that's just pillow talk
that's just things you say

as you're backing out of the room
trying to get away
from the person holding the knife
You know, I didn't murder you
but I can't say it never crossed my mind
and you would have laughed to hear me say that
and how I would flush at the thought of it
of my hands pressing in
your eyes rolling back, white, then closing
drawing your last breath into me
Or a blade, yes, sharp as your tongue
Or an athame
god knows you couldn't be killed by normal means
Thrusting in and thrusting forward
until I can hear the blade scrape the wall behind you
the rattle from your throat as beautiful as a choir of angels
My heart at last at peace
My soul untormented and still

And now that you exist only in my head
alone in the dark
ears deaf from blood pounding
you wouldn't believe the fights we've had
still sparring with you
How eloquent, how poignant I was
arguing my case
undaunted
Still trying to reason
with the unreasonable
Surely no long dead voice
no long dead love
would ever pronounce me guilty
and I tell myself
I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine

In the garden (a death)

In the garden moon-pale translucent silver dollars
papery as fly wings
feeling them between my fingers
wondering when they might be ripe enough
to spend on penny candy

In the garden
a tangle of honeysuckle
clinging to the tall chimney
drunken hummingbirds
sticky sweet cloying perfume
rising up like heady smoke

In the garden
chinese red and mandarin orange
bearded snapdragons
keep their own council
never speaking out
until picked by small hands

In the garden
funerary arrangements of white lilies
clutched in two hands
prone on the green grass
gazing up at passing clouds
a soul contemplates heaven

In the garden
russet bricks covered in amber moss
brushing back the fine hairs
soft as silk velvet
pretty enough to use as a pall
for your powder pink casket

In the garden
long gone and lost as Eden
petals shatter, brown as caramel
curling and going to seed
dormant under turned earth
waiting for another spring

The Beetle

The room was clamorous, but she was in a quiet place
the Medium, unseeing and seeing through heavy lidded eyes
hands pulled by other hands
brushing the air around me
seeking through static
lingering finally, touching left of my heart

She(he)said: Do you remember when they placed this here?
when they placed the beetle here?

Strange the point where her(his) hand now rested
had often caused me pain
sudden, sharp and shallow
an inexplicable hitch in my breathing
like my flesh snagging, tearing
catching on a splinter of brittle rib

She(he)said: It was a ceremonial rite. An initiation.

I don't remember. Too much time has passed.

But I tried to picture the(my)body rotting in the desert heat
resined and spiced and desiccating
the fan eared jackal in silhouette
the charms and gilded promises
my mouth opening, my silent voice restored
the scarab enameled in the bright jewel greens and watery aquas of living things
golden and shimmery like a vision of eternity,
placed reverently on dry bones

She(he) said: You were alive.

Alive as I ever was and still am
eternity is my Ka drifting
my eyes open in other eyes
and the beetle, somehow still present
an occasional stab in my side to remind me
this shell is irrelevant
still alive, still here
still eternal
the insect basking in another dawn

Night Barge

The moon is bright as a silver coin
covering the eternal eye
but god is only sleeping -
perhaps dreaming
wings folded, plume upon plume
beaked head drooping onto downy breast
perched imperious
drifting on his glided barge

Sleepwalker
in the azure dark you loved me more
cooled by the breeze that billows the sails
and ruffles the head of a dozing god
hidden from the blind eye
shadows wrapped around us like a pall
hearts feather-light
like stars we burned together
all the doors of the Underworld opened

Lord of Silence
sarcophagus bound
will you take with you
your ornaments and instruments
two knives crossed
blade of copper, hilt of gold
sharp as a star point
tracing scarlet constellations
into the spangled flesh of Nuit -
may she bend to kiss you
gold flecks raining from lapis sky
as the night barge sails on

Dandy Darling

You and I should have been
Laudanum drinkers
Dragon chasers
Opium den lazing on tea stained brocade
Nodding in an aura of antique intoxication
Hazy veil descending like a caul
Reborn into an artificial paradise

You and I should have been
Kept poets
Court laureates
Bound by quills and parchment
Inking pretty words
Love letter confections for powdered ladies
To devour ravenously
Like creme pastilles from satin boxes

You and I should have been
Preening peacocks
Dandy dilettantes
Attending cultured salons
Cavorting with whores and courtesans
Dragging lace cuffs through fine feasts
Red wine spilling from your knife wound mouth

But, bound in blood, a decadent cliche
The suicide pact
Just staving off your final inevitable histrionic
Would you have held me to my word?
Mostly I just wanted to watch you dance and swoon
Conspire and gossip
Leave off your death mania for a while
I held your attention for moment, didn't I?
More than the cold grey world could

Better suited for greater times, you and I
If we wished to court Le Morte
We should have been
Buried alive in silks and excess
Choked by the cloying perfumes of moral decay
Raucous and drunken
Dis-eased by our own wantonness
Spinning, staggering
Giddy to the last into a pauper's grave

War Water

In the realm of magick
I never claimed to be anything less
Than Two Headed
But at least I'm not two faced
If all your vitriol was spilled like ink
Scrawled like words on stained paper
Easy enough for scissors to cut them down
Letter by letter, divide and conquer
Each fiber separating into meaninglessness
Small particles dissolved in tar black water
Rust and iron and creosote
Shake the bottle now, see it grow blacker still
Now all the things that were said -
They bring strife only to you
This is your curse, I gladly give it back
Easy enough to dissipate it like ashes
Easy enough to bottle it up like War Water
And like a glass grenade I can throw this from me
Shattered against your door
All your splinters and careless ire
Splashed across your own threshold
Your own mess to track through
You bring this on yourself
I can walk away from this battlefield
And without you I sleep just fine, cool and peaceful


7/2011

Catharsis

You never knew about the honey jar
My vain attempt to bend your broken will
Our hair, your picture, my sad little dreams
Names woven into crosshatch
Sealed with the blood drip wax of a thousand red candles
Love surely blooming like crystallization within
How I prayed to sweeten your heart

But broken will cannot be bent
And the honey soon turned bitter
No sweetness now
Left to fester too long
Too many unanswered prayers
I realized these tokens simply bound me to you
The very weight of the jar becoming unbearable

I remember running, needing air
Outside, the spring light fading
My hands clenched like claws
Forcing the lid open
Seals breaking, splitting apart
Contents spilling into the open air
Releasing my sickness, bursting forth
Shining droplets suspended for a moment
Like golden tears of a dying sun
And then sounds of shattering
Lancets of broken glass piercing the ground
Honey pooling and oozing into the earth
Draining out like pus from a long neglected cut
Breaking the fever
Purging the infection

Leaving clean and empty
but unclosing wounds


7/2011