whose feet almost almost walk air
they outlive my father
while his clothes remain unexplained
i obey him even though he forgets my name
i lay beside him in a tiny lake full of oxygen
there is a vinyl stillness, a strange taste within exhales
Tag Archives: Death
It is beautiful up here
A decor of familiar faces
Their blue veins
Resembling stones
Silent up to my neck
Can’t communicate
I am mercury lingering over their graves
your room
hardly bigger than your bed
your arms, red and thin
a naked fist
pressing my knees to fall
praying cushions
recalling my mother
the sounds of her
her pink slippers across hallways
for all these useless fingers
pointing at my heart
for all these ghost bellied rags
disturbing the squareness above my head
lie still with me and watch
how the moon secretly weeps in a cold night
Loss
Half a God over the skin of you
Shaving legs with silver
Bare fingers and funny feet
I am at a loss today
With tiny rips of earth
In this half inch of space
Rewriting alphabets
Consider this
The sticky need to write Van Gogh
About those poor dancers
Who Noticed their necks strangled
By his stroke
Wrapped by a sea-green scarf
Firmly gripped by his nurse
God why am I so delirious
With these napkins over my mouth
I beg for change
The painted light
The trees who know me
My elbows
My knees
Its awkwardness
Its innocense
Admiring its wings in this plushy ocean
The difference of feeling sane
Larger than any sail
Lighthousing how someone dies
How someone drowns at the sound of a song
For the thirty hearts
The homes of a life
Where not one cries
Defined by ART
