Here's a few poems:
In the top corner of my room there is
A slit that exudes
Tender darkness
A siren's hymn.
Is it still a trick, a deception
If you go there with willingness and want?
I crawl up the wall and am reminded of
Crawling up my mother's leg
As a child, full of wonder and a molten heart
And like my mother, the slit opens up.
Just big enough to fit me
Just for me.
It's a sense of coming home
An enveloping abyss
A sharded embrace
A kiss that lasts forever.
I am almost there -
But the slit shrinks right as I reach it.
I scratch against it until my nails peel back
And blood spills.
I cry, I weep
The slit remains inaccessible, humming with violent peace.
-
A womb is the ruling host of infinite potential -
Prone to a treaded path that approximates the world-bound heavens,
But with eyes that can also see something exciting, perverse, livening
And will sometimes go there to drink.
A womb is a reverse prison -
Built to keep you locked out
Locked in
Biting on the bars until your jaw breaks.
-
Anatomy of a faraway caress:
A city waking beyond the mountains -
A shadow that dances and curls in the corner of my eye -
An inhuman sound that reaches somewhere just beyond hearing -
A breeze in a dead room -
A sudden sense of deja-vu -
A fog dragging itself across a chasm -
A whale song -
Moments rare and removed,
Teasing, and truncated, and not minimally unsettling,
Preening in the shade of their own flesh.