FOX AND HOUND / HISTORY
to make the purest man alive
dear fox… you’ve won a hound
it’s safer this way I tell you
Fortuna’s got a bounty in neck
but you, you my dearest have got singularity and devotion
if only the cards were reversed
if they played in her fortune
if the other woman
was no longer
you’d be building a new den.
I can’t lie.
if the cards were reversed –
if only i had a choice –
you wouldn’t stand a chance.
Death XIII (Major Arcana)
“i know i may not pass this test
but oh, Death
i’ll raise my eyes to the sky
give me great feathered wings to fly
but please, now is not my time to die
i’ve been speaking with the dead
Removed from my physical proximity
But riling through my lungs, oxygen
regimented pain, reminding me of purpose
as i hurl myself
into the glow of luminescent tomorrows
without you, i have been speaking with the dead
SHE who was reluctant to reveal my amputated dreams
but keeps me in her good graces
beCause i love her
i have to tell her
there are those who would defang you
sprinkling disreputable memories in the well-water of your good-ness
those discontents roaming aimlessly
shouting voices unheard
SHE speaks to me in dreams
her melancholic whispers prevent my fevered reconsiderations
SHE showed me my future, became my past
in what seemed like the same breath
in my remembrance
i explode backwards
my rarely punctuated heartbeat
runs on setencing me daily to begin without her
those lingering pomegranate sunsets ready me for her meticulous inspection
we see the same stars
and i will continue building this legacy we started together
grateful that SHE armed me with conviction in my condemnation
will not falter in her absence
i will luminate every horizon revealed to me
‘Cause i’m not angry anymore
my insomniatic refusals to continue conversations we started
when SHE was in the flesh no longer
called from my ranker
though, there are days when her presence is skin i’ve never shed
there are days when the rustling of leaves resembles her laughter and I spin on my heels
seeking her face in a box of dead trees
there are days when i miss her like teeth
but I promise, I’m not angry anymore
because I know she would’ve given her life to be here
and I am here
eagerly awaiting the blanket of stars to cover me so that when slumber finally takes me
SHE and I
we will continue this
we’re shaking cold with anticipation
i’ve fallen off the wagon
but you still choice to warm my hands in yours
despite the cough in your lungs.
your eyes tell me
the ring on your finger
has never been heavier.
the calm before the storm
is not so calm
when the raindrops falling from the ceiling
don’t know if their floor will be hot coals
ready to fire at any minute
fearful children shooting coping riffles with their mouths
a bullet is as good a tool
children coping in war
killing their own team
we make our choices:
i choose to stand tall amongst the cedars
i choose to bear a low enough fruit for everyone to eat
i choose to comfort
i choose to encourage
i choose to not put down the one that asks for help
i choose kindness.
attempting to please
the desire for fulfillment
and desire for comfort
Telling me speed up
and hit the brakes
trying to speak
when my vocal cords
are being used to tie my hands
behind my own good intentions.
all we want is love
“(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands”
i’m overflowing with giving
drips of affection are running down my spine
i’m slipping on my own
CAUTION WET FLOOR
refusing to settle for less than an a sea
“you sure must be strong when you feel like an ocean made warm by the sun.”
can you feel it?
it is not in my nature to harm
or be harmed – anymore
im hardwired and site-locked
to ssl-owly close doors leading
no longer wishing to conquer lands
i wish to only host
my own domain
my wishes are out of scope
it’s a fools game
quickly losing innocence.
Gold Heart, you are pure.
exhale my name in relief.
Gold Heart, you can’t catch without first
casting a line – there’s no hook for me to repeat.
my hands aren’t made for holding
anything but space.
i’ve failed the test
a plunging execution
running rampant with
trying to recover
but my energy’s expended –
feeding the thirsty with an empty canteen.
optimism is a rough ladder
when your foundation(s) has been shattered.
pick yourself up pick yourself up pickyourselfup.
mirror – you’ve always been the clearest
i cried for you
just like you have for me
in cities where no man sleeps easy
we rest the goldfish in the platter
cannibals picking at each other’s scabs
waiting for the next full moon
to call our hunchback pretty.
Our destruction isn’t pretty
our wild is just that
with no dry socks and
too many ice cubes in your drink.
and now wrinkled finding calm
but we’ll always be the
did you know i cried when you said
“what I feel for anyone is only a portion of what I feel for you.”
vagabond, thief, deviant, you tyrant
everything within you is reflected in me.
thank you. thank you. thank you.
could never do justice
to how my heart
rejoiced in these words.
the grate dodge,
retracting. i’m a broken yo-yo
too tangled in my string to fully come down.
were those moments real?
did you truly hold me?
or was i
trophy – a conquest to prove your heartache
you’ve shown me sweetness,
but only just enough
but only just the edge.
i’m too scared to play a guess
so i’m checking my own king.
you cunt, you lovely cunt
don’t make me happy. please don’t fill me up
and let me think
that something good can come out of this.
look at my bruises. Look at this gaze.
do you see graze inside of me? Do you
see it growing before your very eyes,
we’re closing in on eachother
do you think i don’t know what it feels
to be choked out by a ring
minor set back
a gentle nudge across the face
ice cold bath from the neck
to remind you of your place.
Over eager child,
your dogs are walking your leash
and you’ve stepped into empty space.
and regain ground
this fantasy isn’t real
and there is no such thing
as one basket
for stubborn eggs refusing to hatch.
you wrote your story,
now lay in it
let your lover(s) run their hands along your spine
bookmark chapters of their triumphs
may you be subject
to limitation of devotion
where no one will know
how much blood your heart,
can circulate through
not even you.
there’s tremble in my gentle
slowly uncovering the rubble
i’ve been starved for months
holding trouble next to mirror
but i’m changing
a glimmer catching the moths
circling my devotion they know there’s a light here
you echo what im too scared to think
a teal weave across my halo.
Even ogres know craft.
these numbers don’t make sense
night time whispers
i’m learning to encrypt deeper –
when there’s breath on my back
we’re not all cruelty and maliciousness
sometimes our fumbles are the product
of something more human.
consolidation – shared habits
there’s a baseline for all these places
my world would brake you
all primal and volatile
it’s these routines
creating new avenues pot/kettle.
To call a thing by its proper name
the way i see it.