Shakshuka @shakshukababy - Tumblr Blog

e m o r

ℵ amor, querida, say, when you cast your eyes this way or that, you’ve worked in defect, hametz to dough. now fetch us a bull, sheep, or goat. none will be left for morning. eat today and keep my name holy. say, “six days then rest.” and when the new moon blooms in her best dress we will sit by a fire and dine – but tomorrow? we cross! it’s said the walls [alive] are like water and teeming with…

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#emor

#poem #continuum #yad

#yad #poem #continuum

d e p o s e

it was the face. the look in his eyes. the hollow bone in the cheek. the void in the pupil. the soulless color spilling from them. my isaac. my ram in the bush. then it struck me odd, this intimacy. we are bound by ties seen, unseen, and otherwise. the consequences of stillness. the judgement of impulse. the altar of drive and the blade of time, and the children born of it, all the agents of life…

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#jfkassassination clip from The Men Who Killed Kennedy, episode 1, “The Coup d’Etat

#jfkassassination

k i m o n o

you or i in a flutter-cloud of butterflies? we tore the fedora’s bow pitching it at the rack. you, in kimono, n’ monarchs covered the bed … sipping at chest, we fell bedside – soft- bodied robots twist n’ writhe, undulating symmetry, drunk from milkweed! we expand n’ a flutter – ephemeral state – emerge from the umbel-like abstraction of us.

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#butterflies #fedora #kimono #milkweed #monarch butterflies

i present, you. what do you see? three. man, god, chasm. i cease. you desire a face of fluid expression, as in the dream of identity and soul; a chasm where hollow meets the wind; where the bowing cellos of antecedents make the deeper clay. where the vapor of self is lifted, and both god and man ignite fires, running nakedly wild into the path of inhuman deeds, together, in a patchwork of crimes.…

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#bach #god #quartz #self #transmission

a t t e n u a t i o n

"Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye." H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

easy, like taffy, pulled, pressed, thinner, then pale – like walking out into clouds with the power only afforded in dreams – the rustle of the sleeves, the slapping lapel, causing me to blink. i’m flying. time, a ticking in the chest, filling my throat, swelling the words i speak. i’m a bird. i’m a terrible white-throated sparrow. who dive-bombs the black and flash of electric discharge? hard,…

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