An Atmosphere of a Minotaur’s Tomb

We now become delinquent splices of Gemini
Love:
the happiness of picking a scab.

Courting Pluto

Remember thin lips sealed closed,
turned backs
hearts glued shut
Our eyes becoming frozen fish in a pond,
Arteries no longer your wires.

I recall times greater than those

Like your angled back catching and keeping the sun
making it stay
Letting only heaven’s light refract
Before you punish your spine to retract
Our lungs climbing together, in sync with breath
(you then curse it for blooming off track)

How you grow, accept, and learn from death

When did our arms clothe something fragile?
Legs locked it was now difficult to tell
Between the sacred labyrinths and layers of heart
Until the day I was caught counting backwards with the tile
The sky cracked open,
Clouds screeched and told us,
“Stay more than awhile”

Is there a proper measure of distance to stand from a stranger?

spatula

but now i can't even force the light of day

the person

an exercise from my creative writing workshop:
tell me your name
tell me your real name (what you feel your name should be)
what animal is inside you? explain.
what is inside your heart?
what is written on your forehead?
what sound do you love?
what sound do you hate?
what smell do you love?
what smell do you hate?
what is your favorite time of day?
if your hands could talk, what would they say?
what is a memory from your childhood?
a saying you remember from childhood told by your parents or grandparents






mispronounced yiddish saying, careening towards forced meaning
but no other name would seem as fitting
none other as true
a cat, halted before domestication, climbing, clawing
claws
retracted, fur refined

fishing net cased around the heart
supposed protection from fumbled expression
unaware of open, without force
almost quite comfortable closed

"patience" is written on the callous of skin
the horizon of the head
always a day before
(or years, decades, even more)

the crunching sound of leaves,
bites into metal forks
firewood burning, coffee brewing
rubber tires screech and burning
twilight, when sun hits
the yellow tree in the yard
before the darkness of night

my hands already grasp at words
reaching for the door
childhood under tables
wanting to be more

Shana Madel
wear it in good health
(but nothing more)

s

love has almost died off, she said through teeth
as she raised one more eyebrow to the door,
when the elbow sank to the cold steel floor
then the widow comes and turns you to thief
what can get you off without turn to beast?
now incessant action forever more
her eyes never tried to sink past the lore
i tried my very best, to say the least
what cannot get you off not even head
standing, wanting all of me, nothing less
you thought we almost fell far off, instead
was i abiding by your sweet caress
when dream of feelings divine as if fed
gape at narrow eyes that purchase the theft
our love can seem almost quite meaningless

out

splices refined, our hours were practically orchestrated,
time passed: snails found eagle's wings to be flown.
remember the smiles unforced or touched kisses (not blown)
see yourself as me, now every sided snake eyed and ten-fold
a collection of blatant remarks, elegantly told

forever ago

the love
has died
no above
all benign

b

boots,
i don't really know you at all
sometimes we talk about nothing
is that substantial?

a

once had a dream you were giving me head
realized it was a mistake to mention it
we would then be called dykes
our affection went out the door
it seemed for you,
i did not care anymore
your neckline is soft
your smile seems lonely
i hope we were the babysitters in the poem

your tiny wrists

now you love
what you think
you know now

but now it's
nothing like
you've dreamed of

father, brother - lover, friend : a collection of shortcomings

father:
decaying decrepit
delayed
slightly blistery, fubbed fingerless joints
they were skulls fearing the umbrellas dry shield
careful not to dismay

brother:
still wasted from tomorrow not carrying sense or dimes
believed every word they spoke, breath almost in sync with mine
the solid gaze quantified to be erased

lover:
cold-blooded crucified held his waist between thighs
we held this position til the blood drained insides
until our bodies became suitable (almost) rhymes

friend:
salt now only reappears with the tide