Poets Requiem

Everything is open to interpretation (A. Phoenix)

[apoetsrequiem]

(Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves)

[s1ck-pup]

[apoetsrequiem]

(Alison Kronstadt, Bred in Captivity)

[apoetsrequiem]

(A Summer’s End)

It falls away

I will run no more

I will dance and sing and rejoice no more

The sunlight will warm me no more!

Into the earth

food for the bugs

Compost for the wheat

Summer tolls

I watch it retreat

Hold on!

Where is West? When will we meet?

—

(A. Phoenix)

[apoetsrequiem]

[apoetsrequiem]

[literaryvein]

L. V., from the first draft

[apoetsrequiem]

(Kuru.)

I think I am sick

So very sick

I’ve let someone in with ill intent

I’ve confided in the devil,

I opened my mind, and he scored my brain with his whitened teeth

I wasn’t good enough to eat

So he spat the pieces back in my mouth

Using me

Against myself

In my gluttonous need for love I swallowed every piece

He has poisoned me!!

Or was it I who poisoned myself?

I was the one who let him in

after all.

You cannot blame the nature of a hunter, when you are so clearly prey

I pray I am not

I know no being will answer my prayers

because amidst my cries

I know that if he came back for more

I’d show him my heart

In hopes it’d be more his taste.

(A. Phoenix)

[apoetsrequiem]

(What Am I?)

I yell, I weep, I shriek, I’ll keen!!

Bludgeoned

I yell, I weep, I shriek, I’ll keen!!

Mauled

I yell, I weep, I shriek, I’ll keen!!

Rended

I yell, I weep, I shriek, I’ll keen!!

You cannot silence me!

For I am the ears you use to hear it

I am the scabs you pick and I am the sting in your eyes

I hurt you because I love you

Cry

Attack!

Beg with your knees on the ground, and your head in the dirt

My devotion is innate like the beating of your heart

The gift of fire in the hands of a fool

And I will feast on you

(A. Phoenix)

—

[apoetsrequiem]

(Vicente Aleixandre-Sound of the War)

[apoetsrequiem]

(Alfred Stieglitz’ Letter to Georgia O’Keefe)

[apoetsrequiem]

(Hope.)

A

Perpetually outpaced

Inalienable rot

Insatiable to what you know

Yours to carry

Yours to feed

Yours to feel

To protect and exploit

Dear like the flowers sprouting from your womb

For it is you

And everything you have ever known

(A. Phoenix)

—