Bloom

Painting by Igor Eugen Prokop

 

I had an orgasm in Oklahoma, a vision in Virginia, but in Denver witnessed no empty tomb in a rocky mountain, or any other miracle
I gestated in Solomon’s icicles and was born in the wizened space between May raindrops
In San Bernardo was baptized in Escobarian blood and chicharron grease Read More

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Heavy

I’m of the school where we are meant to feel the chaos of the cosmos, the “collapsing of stars,” and the funereal aspects of life, deep in the fibers of our muscles. And, it is both a terrifying and a redeeming mission. Hear this:

RamJet Poetry

heavy

And it’s all so heavy. Burden of mine embedded. It sticks like a low spring evening in Georgia, suffocating, full of old ghosts and drab speech. There’s cheese-wire cutting through my muscles, fire ants in my bones. Worms eating my guts, spiders behind my eyes. Noises so loud it is the earth sundering, no, the collapsing of a star. Heavy. My heart is on fire and my mind blanketed by winter snow. I have been crucified but unlike the saviour, I cannot die. Moving into a half-waking stupor. I engage in the act of living, but it is a poor performance. I am a MUFON case file, unexplained enigmas, Marfa lights. If you want to know what pain is, look my way. I know what pain is for pain is me. So blind from the light that I cannot see. Funny thing about pain, it is an invisible, sly demon…

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Touch

Painting by Beata Belanszky Demko

Do miracles rise from the cracked crust of the earth,
each new world existing both for, and because of divine love?
Do you dip into one pool and each ripple is a new-born dream manifest
as human on earth,
as star in sky,
as song in space? Read More

Question Mark


                                     earth
                                on          did
                             how            the
                                            dot
                                          g
                                          e
                                          t

                                      here Read More

Solid

“Starry Night” by Vincent Van Gogh

Moving through this world like forging your way through heavy plastic
Molecules dense and greedy even for your tiny space it becomes harder to breathe as they crowd around pushing in on you from all sides everyone striving to be stuck stable solid it’s like not moving at all Read More

Through These Words

Max Meunier

you will see
my pain

the endless hours spent

the triumph
of this misery

in a momentary squander

you may wander
through the pages torn

and wonder
how i speak your truth

the one
stayed by a stinging tongue

layered ‘neath a stolen sun
abeyant

at times
we will laugh together

rain may fall
on distant ground

and the secret
guarded smile
will have vanished
left untold

on the cusp
of thought symphonic
on the path
of parting stream

though we understand
the story

who we are
remains unseen

mystery becomes our warden
through these words
of sought reprieve

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