So many delicious pieces...enjoy!

NaPoWriMo 2016: 8 -- 10April 8th, 2016
There are murmurations
of starlings, and then
the quiet rabbit warrens.
Flurry and a parsimonious
economy of motion.
I used to sing all the time—
I remember it used to mean
something, perfect harmony
like the slick of muscle
against joint.
Now I dig down
deeper, deeper,
into the earth's
pursed mouth.
April 9th, 2016
Yes, back then
there was a lot of music.
It seems now I was
a wide, resounding valley.
Touch me and a high note,
like a flicked glass, would sound.
Now I hum low in the dark.
Now, in the cistern of my heart,
the last ripples sigh away.
April 10th, 2016
The black curve
of the foodtruck crows,
like solitary dark eyes
cut into the pavement.
Tossing a tortilla scrap,
the lady drives off
and every eye
follows her. :thumb602899294:
chokerplease do not ask me
to keep you,
blurry and greedy and
bleeding,
don't let my weakness
bring shame.
bark christened with a new frame
cracks with the terror
of a new day
buried.
hold me like cherry blossoms keep
our secrets tucked neatly within,
no grins though the knowledge spreads
thin.
ivy on the dashboard,
the leather of the backseat,
the smooth, wet metal
of the engine.
when you make moves
there are sparks from your crushed bones
rustling like the leaves
that you're leaving behind,
hurried.
please let your desperate grave
of a mouth
have the power to be kind
to my name. chokerplease do not ask me
to keep you,
blurry and greedy and
bleeding,
don't let my weakness
bring shame.
bark christened with a new frame
cracks with the terror
of a new day
buried.
hold me like cherry blossoms keep
our secrets tucked neatly within,
no grins though the knowledge spreads
thin.
ivy on the dashboard,
the leather of the backseat,
the smooth, wet metal
of the engine.
when you make moves
there are sparks from your crushed bones
rustling like the leaves
that you're leaving behind,
hurried.
please let your desperate grave
of a mouth
have the power to be kind
to my name. i.i was a girl born in the arms of
a mother who was not quite herself,
skin as pale (and a core as cold) as the moon
i was a girl who was born to
a father who was not quite the person
everyone made him out to be,
eyes as bright (and a heart as distant) as the sun
i was a girl born in
a city that was not quite urban
drenched in with fog that clouded our eyes
but never painted grey my heart,
until i realized that
i was a girl who was born
not quite enough.
an ocean girl with a pair of feet,
a accidental child who couldn't replace the ones broken before her,
a poetess heart in a house of silence
but after all,
who am i to question my roots
when i'm not paying for my roof?
so i'll do both.
because though i was born from a hollow (girl)
i am not a fleeting dream.
i am more than
my flaws,
and i'll forgive you for yours.
because i am my own love,
so that i can be my own beginning.
Encyclica(14/30)Do not speak of gold nor glitter
to denounce the vanity and the pride
of worlds and ages in which you do not live
priest, so frothing at your imagined demons, so bitter
looking for devil tail under other pants and skirts, so snide
to judge while pointing your horns and your self made
churches at every alien you gaze upon, never to forgive
their souls nor lives- all them going, to you, to the same Shade. Day 13somewhere, in a wasteland of sulfur,
you greeted me where there had been sky
and mourned for me when the sun first set.
your moonlight smile a soft benedictine,
clouds part in awe of your sublime grace

Mature Content

:thumb602818115::thumb602853145: NaPoWriMo April 1-7 2016April 1st
reap
twilight's tidal ebb
of lunar phases
bows, acquiescing to
the tender fevers
of my body- how well
you know the response,
reveling in each other
to reap anew
ocean's bounty that awaits
April 2nd
ritual
a pearlescent sheen of early dawn
echoes across the
summit of my spine
sustained
from where we left off while
honoring me during the ritual
leaving lip rings around my
healings, making them feel
desired by your homage
April 3rd
ether
from a craft adrift my voice muffled by
distance stutters through the ether
and the ink blackness - I can see the sun
I'm surrounded by stars- suns that live
and die before my eyes my own sun
stands out because it's where you are...
again my feeble voice calls knowing
you can't hear but will dedicate the
rest of my life so that one day you will
April 4th
tides
our passion - the rippling heat
of a kalapana lava flow
that rushes down to the sea
where you first came to me
arms filled with the orchids
you placed in
I will Be Like Asphaltstarting today, 
the wasps will float and fly
to tighter nests,
to less-scarred skins--
a soliloquy of heartache
I refuse to revisit
I will be like asphalt
pliant and forgiving
to those who warm me;
cold and unyielding
to those who set out
to break me down
Storm ShapingMy outstretched fingers never could catch rain.
We should be storm shapers, you said; failing that,
Familiarity would keep us together.
I was not surprised you were wrong
When you called us storm shapers. Failing that,
I had no use for Spring's soft rains.
How could I be surprised you were wrong -
You had a way, after all, of summoning thunder-clap gales.
I never had use for Spring's soft rains.
I have our memories, though, and they make me happy;
You had a way, after all, of summoning thunder-clap gales.
I would laugh at how small, and frail, we were.
I have our memories, though, and they make me happy -
A familiarity that keeps me together.
I laugh, even now, at just how small we were.
Rain strikes my outstretched fingers. as satellitesstelliform, we watched
our supernova bodies
burn. constellations
formed from tooth and viscera -
stark satellites from bone-ash.:thumb602439940::thumb600503352:

Bleak (The End)Isn't this ending
Bleak
Like Easter candy wet and white
with dye washed off
into pastel wash and chalk residue
crusting on some dirty surface
until you clorox it to death
Like everything else
this ending isn't what you wanted
is it, now?
You don't even believe in endings
but this end to something, this end,
is so very bleak
So disheartening
What is it about the heart
that makes itself known?
You can feel in your chest it's worry
and sorrow, it's wracking heaves
and its excited thrumming.
But now that thrum is bleak
and slow, faltering and arrhythmic
The moon has fallen from its orbit
and brought the tides out of sync,
and all you can think of is how
fucking
bleak
the sky is, gray with inclemency
and bony downpours
that pierce in big wet pointed drops
your coat and bag
Your heart stutters along like a drunk
in and out of traffic
You barely even notice as the flood sweeps
and knocks out a street and a next-door neighbor
because these don't really register
on your bleak-o-meter, with the

Mature Content

Contracts"Will trade flowers for water" -
we strike a summer deal,
renewable each spring. I Just Want To Remember The Good Times. . .Curls of disorder
Barefoot among the trees
Smell the earth
Feel the dirt
Beautiful and free
There is no up or down
No right or wrong
No ins or outs
When you’re in the green paradise
Falling in love every time
Toes that wiggle in the stream
A hum like honey
That comes from within
She is lost in her imagination
The forest is her second world
The wild girl finds her home
When she’s closest to Mother Earth.