8ights poems

certainly now you’d know
      the memories of flesh

and fine fire we’d find if
      desire and deed weren’t

mutually exclusive
inducing new sprucings

regarding the enlarged
      bargain I’m offering

proffering some sane
      sense of lust

courage created this
      letter to a stranger

a drunken inertia certainly
      yet a curtain drawn

on a dawn–like certainty

bolder, blurrier, but less
      worried

regarding the garden of
      fertility

unburdened by
uncertainty

Posted by Shir-Yaakov שיר–יעקב at 12:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

you took my hand,
uninspired and unfeeling,
to touch the warm and wet flesh clay pit
where all vessels are formed,

the furnace where all forms are forged,
to your cunt:
and I hardened.

my fist unfurled,
and coked your soft kiln,
and your lips met my head,
exceeding me.

you rocked me,
brought forth all the
empty bowls and filled them;

I filled your mouth,
shattered my clay shell
softened my spine
and fell.

Posted by Shir-Yaakov שיר–יעקב at 12:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

you broke the human brace
that angel’s spines are free of;
you released me, spent me,
and I dropped, selfish,
to my human cave;

you have no Idea how you
cracked those knots,
bent the steel of my cage
and liberated 10 000 birds;

i took this, returned nothing,
and thanked you only silently.
i could not give voice to this liberation,
words would be simple, stumble
to your elegant earth language

you, reverting me, sustained a forward growth
by shattering the gargoyle, revealing the sculptor

Posted by Shir-Yaakov שיר–יעקב at 12:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

an ancient dangerous weed
forever unfurling
spiralling from a molten deep,
through a liquid metal bed,
out the dry jagged jaw
of rugged clay hair

the universe pale & parched
a chaffed crying
a fist of rice paper
loudly unwrapping—a dead gift
aborted bitter fruit
untangling and caustic
ascorbic & sour, a
powdered rind
grey & flailing with wind

this nightshade
crippling my every day
a heavy rotting
tearing flesh,
barbed with gravity;

a mighty sterile stone
rolling a slow orbit, occluded
its habit enshrouded
by dry red clouds
& dead mustard blooms,
a poison perfume
petalling every room.

serin sap
suffocating every inch of air
stolen birthright atmosphere,
roughing every arc
through every harsh angle.

beneath this angry eave
the blasting leaves attack
stain & choke
the past-pink foul
of my chained feet.

immobilized
by this braiding crawler,
the weaving vine
poisoning the yawning pockets
twisting through my spine.

Continue reading "(an ancient dangerous weed)" »

Posted by Shir-Yaakov שיר–יעקב at 12:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

my punched jaw
locked against
a cliff height’s fall
a naked crawl
through a glassy pit

I swallow bitter spittle
and am an orphaned father
our dangled battered baby
broken open like a stone

the center of
our flesh–fruit home
rotted, cold, and
still

rust peeled off the sill
and our long distance down
seen from broken ground

Posted by Shir-Yaakov שיר–יעקב at 12:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

reluctant to talk on things
anythings
because things so often change.

reluctant to curse this wardrobe
these devices
these limp ligaments
falling off me like ligneous elements
falling down & dragging me

because this flesh
sloughs off like dead leaves
and the right root remains.

reluctant to divulge
because the bulge in my neck—
the suffocating fruit
lodged & decaying away—
will rot & dissolve soon enough,
leaving no fossil.

somehow this stain soaks through.
somehow the seed of all
storm & tempest
has broken skin and scarred me.

I am a dying fire.
I am all silt & cinder
smoldering so many crumpled days.

I am a forgotten thing
unnamable.

Posted by Shir-Yaakov שיר–יעקב at 12:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I can’t place these writings
in space nor time:

downy flames

———

this lullaby sung in morning the butterfly cacceened without warning this falling up the sound of leaves       returned to trees this falling cup from my hand the sound of glass       returned to sand

the ocean tide stalling

the purple sky in midnight shadowless in daylight a canopy in the desert anemone in a nightshirt

a straight line in a bubble porcelain in he rubble a dream of lime to the colorblind a chance to take a second time

I think these were written
the morning after a Q–party,
maybe the first or second one....

———

dog of discovery
sniffing forever
the danger of beauty

Posted by Shir-Yaakov שיר–יעקב at 12:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

meditation on an
appreciation of life
born in stars
safe with the storming in my heart
what we are
greatest turning is our start
I collide with you
one comes from two
love comes from you
coalescence
far from me
double in me
breathing with me
doubled clearly
I’ve come far to
recognize you
I have washed from me
a redundancy
I qualified an alibi
trapping me eternally

Posted by Shir-Yaakov שיר–יעקב at 12:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)