Brimstone

From frigid brine and brimstone
Clawed forth from fatal confines
And there upon the dawn I see
The demons of the Earth

Ivory towers fangs and furrows
bristling with stagnant seas
Defaced mountains, shattered trees
a ruin of their make

Be not the bitter bleaks of hell
and brimstone which would deem perdition
All fabergé and superstition
pale before the mortal realm

These dire drearies wrung of romance
reality far crueler warden
Call mercy to the congregant
there feasting on the echo

The space between them further still
than Dis or that which crawls between
A hollow place of swallowed screams
thus populates the Earth

Minute-hand

It makes the Minute-hand stop
Not in the moment,
But in the memory

Those things lost in the shuffle
But impressed on the vinyl
They skip, they are track-less
Yet fall static before

Giving quarter-note pause
In familiar melody
The pressure gives purchase
To the pen as I write

It circles that moment
Where the annals imprint
The sparce punctaution
Where the Minute made since
   Where the minute made cents
      Where the minuet made sense
Where the second-hand starts
Passing moments again

View

It’s rather spineless to posture each revelation
A worm can writhe but never shriek
This thesis states nothing without even needing to speak
It’s all some great compulsion we share to try to sound unique

Depreciation is appraising nicely
Self-doubts reached a market peak
Don’t let projections skew the view
the pen is strong – the paper, weak

Or maybe its a reverie
It’s worth nothing if not to you
And moments of lucidity
discourage from the finer view

Could You Repeat That?

Maybe
we could stay sometime
I’ve got a lot going on
Nothing serious
We had a lot going on too
Haven’t you been here long?
You left me
with some beautiful scars
Could you repeat that?
I didn’t get
your name.

Maybe we
could stay some time
I’ve got a lot going on
nothing serious
We had a lot
Going on two
Have you been here long?
You left me with some
beautiful scars
Could you repeat that
I didn’t get your name

Exception

We are a flicker of a moment
Caught between the palpitations of the universe
Stardust spread the bounds of the boundless
And condensing to another blast
Relentless
Steadfast
Slower than eternity
Yet withering all the same
Will the cycle be unbroken
None’s to say
And what are we-
A moment in expansion of the pulse
Two vertical timelines upon a cosmic horizon
So close they’d seem as one
So close we’d seem as one
In that flicker of a moment,
of a pulse, on a breath
In the breadthless
We were seldom seen or heard
An untended tree falls deathless
But if we’re born of nothing
To no unmet expectation
Then everything we feel here is exceptional exception
By the time we see the pattern
The pulse rings out again

Little Tremors

The wrinkles of your shirt the only wear upon your shape.
Where breezes dance your collarbone guiding perfume to your face.

Little tremors of life,
wrist rhythm warm and lingering
draping elbows below the jawline
where the rhythm maintains.

The soothing rime of flush just before capillaries fluster
A mountain of little phrases one after another
Two thrumming responses play for each other
Listen between the breaths,
there beyond the chest.

The Sound

It settles like sawdust through the air
Through bated breath and wounded aroma
Pine needles knitting on itching arms
Leaves rended in idle fumble
Branches broken
It all falls down.
Were you there, where it made a sound?

As the hand slid from my own
It made a sound
The bated breath between each plea
There in wounded enamour
Pining arms lacking purchase
Left unwound where autumn falls
Felt jagged roots beneath my knees
We all fall down
And I was there, when it made the sound

The Sunny Side

There’s a place I see
Bright and sunny with air that’s sweet
The grass is cool, as it folds beneath your feet
This side I never get to see
Eyes gilded and restful
Convinced it’s all just some dream,
but wouldn’t mind staying asleep

But there’s another day on the horizon
Another cell to inhabit,
Another shell to breach
And as it stares up at me
I pierce gilded eye
And it’s still as it weeps
For there’s no sunny side up
It grows colder
So I eat

Breeze Before The Echo

It’s a breeze before the echo
Some providence predating that which grips the skin and pulls it tighter
This omen you could feel
The flicker of a look behind your eyelids was the furthest you could run
And with that it’s done.
The hot breath searing to none but us dancing
as we turn to dust
Carried on the breeze as it fades so grey and distant
the echo come and gone.

There-amid

And there-amid the rising chest
As heart-beats split the rhythm
Wrapped quarter-notes in phantom thread
With open-tones within them

The needle-point skips as it sutures
These treble-clefts to troubled lips
Resting as your whole-note lifts
In such-familiar places

The miss-match of soft metronome
Be-still my heart, on hiccuped sigh
You hold in-place my morning glance
Long there-amidst breath rising high

We Could See

There amid the first silence that we could ever see
I sat so far from being close to you
And you, too close to being far from me

Teeth parted but my lips unbreached
Had something to say,
but it couldn’t come from me

From flitting glances which fell where I faltered
To stoic discontent, yet feeling unnamed
Not all that sure what it meant, but it hurt all the same

And when that silence broke,
as did we, neither as before
Only now do I see:
In that final thing we shared, you shared it all with me

Pragmatic

This lack of faith isn’t pragmatic
not some well struck gamble or
self-righteous preamble

To a hypothetical crowd of those who’d
dedicate a day to you freely on the assumption that there’d be anything left to say
after it’s all been said a million times before on tongues that aren’t here anymore

What’s worth more
a few five dollar words from all over, cheap but colorful, crass but loveable
Truth is just some thing we do
why peek the blindfold and worship the second ply

If it’s all up to some beholder then why don’t we see eye-to-eye
And when I die, what’s the harm if I don’t grow any older

Taut

The things felt bleak,
They burrow deep
I pulled away and lost myself
This carbon date disintegrates
There, lost amidst the wind

Incorperate needles and wants
Torment, alleviates
Scratch and stitch and punctuate
The passage of the sentence

Attendence to the tenderness
That circumstance abrades
Calling to me silently,
That expressionate abate

The things felt deep
Aciculate,
and circulate these bleak remindings
These threads pull loose anothers’ bindings
Taught while it unwinds

Ghosts At Night

You glisten there above me
Yet are gone from the sky
For the message is lightyears away from my eye

You’re still here in perception
Blurring lines between life
A ghost in the night; as I stare, you’re alive

So then what of the darkness
That exists between stars
It may seem like it’s empty yet the light travels far

Is there life before light
Just as light after death?
Endless sea of potential
With the ghost light bereft

Mulled

Charmed the things I couldn’t tame
Nor wouldn’t tame to keep them sharp
A fang that taps heart roseate
That charming tongue could tear apart

A spinning wheel lined with spokes
You spoke the lines behind each weaving
Falling, finding, faulting, leaving
Adornments I’d adore

The venom not reciprocated,
clings so softly in each vein
mulled within a place once bitter
Now absent of a lonesome pain

You charmed the one I couldn’t tame
Grew eromatics in the space
In soil tilled with teeth attentive
And poisoned smirks now unresented

Bodies

Behind all the posturing
The posterior dimorphism
Genital culture and general discomfort
Orientation disorientating
Some obligated purview
The terms of engagement
Married with consummate screw

But of you.
Of you I never lost view.

I think of all the different ways
We’ve come to call love
Meeting, matching, fleeting, and repeating
Putting yourself in a box
Being borne of a shape
But that shapes born of you
You’re that feeling amorphous
Orientation an afterthought
And thought only of you
In another life, in another time
With another face
It’d always be true

Before all the posturing
In hindsight adoring
All the joy in your convent, your clan, and your cohort
Coronating a fever borne right to my head
Some ongoing courtship
Of a star-crossed estrangement
Of celestial bodies in the shape of us two

Heather Nights

It was first her heart I heard as she
drew me down the heather valley next
upon the soothing vales found me
there within the blue of moonlight

In pale lagoon of tension twice broken
of willow trees and mismatched leaves
Her riven lips and raven hair and
bedewed eyes left closed between

Interlace the emerald furrows and
conjugate the space apart
Each loving word and lulling lean which nestles in my shoulder
And thereupon the spring we shared
below willow tree and falling leaves
Chirping frogs delineate each heather night you shared with me

Exhausted

You’re the end of the smoke
The waving lines of ashen dune
Heather grey and gone too soon
Silent crashing nevermore

The space wherein your body fades
Far above and far away
That moonlit contor dissipates
Left me looking for the shape

Slate stiletto lifts from embered tip
And yawns between the awns and leaves
The orange fades below the greens
Your eyes the emerald gleam in vapor

Back to steam and back to naught
With rippling heat the last mirage
Your departure – it gave me pause
For I can’t find your tether

Then it dawns on me just there
For once aware, as such she rises
Sunlight on the shape no more
No servent of the smoke’s devises

No ashen dune or dagger tip
No heather teardrop upward drips
Lifts into the virgin air
From swift ascending vale

Don’t taste the scent on bygone lips
Begone this kiss of rising, parting
Lucent to the cloud departing
Far above one left below
The rainfall salted,
never known

-Galwyn

Unique

Charming in her words
Uniquely chisled as her face
With marble eyes of fountains
In flowing soak encased

The silver stream like vapor
The rising steam of glance
To find a peerless longing
For a creature built of chance

Unique in every factor,
Every fracture,
Every fault,
Yet all of this together,
Captivates with its gestalt

For there is not a single line
Through which she’d be defined
Composed so very wonderous
As if plucked from dreaming mind

-Ganwyn

Creed

Never had the tongue for creed
And never had the tune for choir
Never had a reason to need
What my soul never sought to require

Though in this exception
There’s one faithful perception
Which is yet to succumb to the real

And I know it sounds pious
But I find that there’s heaven
In the way that you’ve made me to feel

Cross my palms before they dry
Silver alms fall from my eyes
Not of fear for the divine
But of wishing you goodbye

-Galwyn