Facing the Page
I face the page again
A dire consequence of my obsession
To see something reflected in these lines
That resonates with a reader
I face the page again to connect with myself
Along with others who may vaguely understand
The troubled musings of a liquidated author
Who eats allegories for breakfast
And shits run on sentences in the form of poetry
And cruelly mocks the rules of English grammar
In favor of a discordant melody
Which winds out of time
To its own drumbeat
The Disturbing Power of Faith
The devastating thing about it was
Just how quickly it came
in fits of blue-collar rage
It stormed in, hostile and enthusiastic
Filled with the venom of God
Virile in its arrogance
And completely devoid of reason
It built a specter out of fear
Starting with immigrants
Make America Puritan
A white abstraction
Thinly coded in nationalism
Red ties made a noose
Around the future
And self-preservation took an insidious turn
Toward the worst impulses of the ego
The kinds that revel in cruelty
Punishers are of the devil’s party
Functionally speaking, the devil punishes the wicked
Or so the story goes off into a war with heaven
and a battle for souls
When you operate on Christian nationalism
Even reality is a lie in the hands of a believer
You can believe reality straight into being
This is the ultimate secret understanding
We are the imagination of ourselves
Our lies lay the foundation of the Truth
This is the Language of Eden
This is their ultimate power
Faith is a form of magick
To access it, you must sever logic and reason
Sever caution and nurture certainty
And watch them line up behind
Whichever dog barks the loudest
at the root of silence. paused a powder. rolling backward over the gutter. & dissolved in anOther’s eyes. & a chest secretly envied the outer lining of a gray suit. would disturb the body. scabbing toward her own throat and rolled out at moonlight.
all stopped atop the promise of dust (itself seemed) silent since your vein is wound on time. that crept into what i will call you.
we are masquerading as plucked blossoms. I sleep beneath the blanket you crocheted. I know i feel warmth.
well i'm going to down and up like you stared at God and loaded the bowels of compassion from her nightstand.
the way her bladder empties out & how jesus will swallow the puffy cushions of a comfortable wrath.
the length of god could smell gastric juice.
set in biology
my body could teach me
that sins overlap and imagine
we pass that gleam of lOve
yOu escape through
Gallabrielle Gold
Fetishize your essence
Until your hair turns white
And your lips fall off
And your teeth grow teeth of their own
For which to bite down on your tired heart
Until you expand into a pretty knot
& blow
Prometheus’ Lament
Time vivisects me
I am one with the seething of the sun
Come with me
It is lonely here
There is no way out
Let me spill out of this place
Let me swim toward my salvation
Beckoning with perfect grace
My grim regards
My pleasure
To dance with the devil tonight
To spill into a soft warm womb
And reflect the midnight of creation
Depression Poem
Behold, a surface devoid of depth
Tears are irrelevant
They require energy
I can only pass time
Slowly, like the turning
Of the earth
Spins out of habit
And I cling to a past
Where hope heralded a reason
To move
Time is your enemy, now
Watch as it unfolds another minute
Sinking deeper
Into your own eyes
Closing to the rhythm
Of the rain
Comes down in sheets now
Mocking your lack of tears
Oh, Comforter
Where is your comfort?
I never meant for it to be like this
I never meant
You have to eat the pieces
That shatter into existence
When you reflect back on yourself
Eat your own guts
Tangled in a knot
Before you can see the flowers
Rising from the rain
You have to chew your own lips
Bite your teeth
Taste your tongue
Before one second of this moment
Crashes through the sky
To remind you
You are there
You are there
And the rhythm of your heartbeat
Lurches for a drum
Bridling desire in its own
Red essence
The forgotten throbbing of pain
It’s on days like today
Days that fling themselves into existence
Days that drum slow and sad to the melancholy
Throb of heartpain
That I think death could be as good a friend
As sleep
Prophecy of Cancer
Rainwater dripped from relations
i pray you dream
they nurture the Cubic Sacred
to incarnate pleasure in mythology
thinking in proteins
hidden beneath their numb skin .
thriving in Her lonely innocence
as objects may blight
their laws down
or after a meal. sustaining the esophagus
fumbled around itself so sacrificing themselves
shrunken to current events lay sleeping.
can cause us to something into everything
state explanations
Have a host body as promised
Huge sums of your own vomit
Gushed from bile
Profitable prophecies
Wherein no meaning
retains its self , alone ;
moonlight retracts an unlit cigarette that
third stage arises out
Of all life exorcising itself of sameness
Demon of Pain
I wish I could be enough
For you to be ok
But when you feed a demon
You become punishment
The tortured torturer who
Avenges their pain
All is not lost forever
Tomorrow brings another pain
You can erase with pain
As one pain tends to erase another
We proceed into normalized pain
The pain of foreknowledge of the day
Blunts the pain of the day
The throbbing becomes a rhythm
The rhythm becomes a routine
Seconds labor into hours
Every minute makes itself
Want to go away
Until ending pain
Consumes the will
Of the actor
Entirely
The Tortured Poet and the God of Names
The tortured poet eats his shadow
A song made for survival
The receipt you’re given
After you sell your silence
To the God of Names
The only name left in this space
Belongs to Him who makes shadows dance
Who creates a space where the dead pass
Who pins your ghost to the threshing floor
Death, is what they name Him
To Him all things proceed
The tortured poet calls upon Death
To be his muse
He wonders why when life is all he feels
There are no right answers here
There are no right answers in a Sea of Names
That’s how a poem can be beautiful
Even when it’s inspired by the hellish realms
It acts on instinct
Like Death
It moves toward its own completion
Live your life in such a manner
That rainwater won’t touch you
Eat your own soul until you are barren
And wanting again
Drink the blood of moribund specters
Who feed on your blood to come to life
Drink the emptiness of their machinations
Drink the solemn swelling promise of your cycle
Become the spirit of rebirth and understand
That Growth itself is eternal
But so is Death
A Home for Ghosts
When you believe in ghosts
Every house is haunted
Restless spirits pervade the spaces
In between hope and fear
The silent echoes of the past
Ignite our imagination
And drive us, screaming, toward that place
Where shades and specters toil in loops
The abyss is always staring into you
You only notice when you're looking into it
When solemn eyes devise the path
To your destruction
And the only way out is down
Because you're falling
Through
Into
a pit with no bottom
The center of which is a heart
That forgot how to beat
The first hell was born of troubled sleep
All other hells proceed from it
The shades that inhabit this space
Become circuits of despair
Predictable
Like the motions of a planet
Like Sysiphus’ boulder rolling again
Down the incline
To what extent we are like
An endlessly repeating script
We are in hell
To what extent we desire to be seen
We are a ghost
To what extent we are a ghost
We are a home for ghosts
April cleans up
Anything Winter could not kill
Flowers bloom from corpses
New life always requires a purging
The birds levy their crescendo against
The breeze through the trees
The sun bakes every note in warmth
I breathe
This is when life expands
Our thoughts turn outward
Back on the world
All of winter pressed us in
Made our eyes shallow
Made it hurt to feel
Now our skin
meets the day enthusiastically
As if God himself were looking
Through our eyes
And there is no judgment
Only the sensation of day
Gleaming brightly
& promising the impossibility
Of silence
