#lunarpoems

[lunarpoems]

He wants to see you

And so the flood unlocks every door where god hides

Oh large world, suddenly unveiled

Oh corners and cobblestones,

Valleys and venuses

What happens to a girl who is no longer a girl?

What happens when the woman is a monster?

[lunarpoems]

Myself, mountains, sunrise

[lunarpoems]

grief piece

You could live somewhere like that and be happy, ignore the murder of my left wrist. Something essential and perfect was missing from life. I'm all eyes, all devouring chocolate bars, cherry popsicles, poetry or what comes after that. There's this child still inside of me, the ocean remains in your shoe. I’ve changed again, replaced Schopenhauer with Rumi. I desperately want to have sex, I don't know how to take things in stride. The line of your eyebrows has long since receded into the past but if I were beautiful and tender and vivid maybe I would not be stuck in a world made only of boardwalks. I'm hooked from the first beer, I decided to be if not beautiful and tender and vivid, then mysterious and magic for your back porch full of plants. I’m flat out crazy but sexy, one day I’ll be the dialogue in your heaven screenplay. Everything is framed in film like this. I've been dreaming of plane crashes and walking around the city with one pupil blown out. Lord, I am desensitized to that grace.

[lunarpoems]

The other Veda

I forget it all, except the crackle of light between leaves, emerald gold and a little blurry like the way you hold a knife to the packing tape and pile it up next to the boxes in a pyre of iridescence. Sometimes I don’t write the poem, I eat too much and end up sick. Hollow stomach, hallowed gap in the clouds a sweeping arm of sleep at the end of a long day.

I could’ve built something that wasn’t a wall. Nothing about this is soft, but we came prepared. Apologies unoaked, unmoored, armed to the teeth. Baby you make my bones ache. If I could take it back, I would. Oh god, I would. Your name is the most difficult word I say: early mornings as I wait for the car to take me home from the bar, during my nightmare walks through the streets, whispered softly into the hotel carpet. I am writing letters to our bodies, here is your mouth which devours without guilt.

Here is the sound of your voice which will lurk forever in ordinary things, car engine stutter, bug-buzz of summer, bird calls in spring, the whirring of a fan late at night.

I am listening. I love everything, everything.

[lunarpoems]

I want to interact more but I’m bad at conversations so Mutuals and whoever lets trade favorite songs/poetry/books! I want to get to know you guys :)

[lunarpoems]

Requiem: press yes to erase

Burning, we kept throwing the half-moon rind into the sky, and after you push my column of spine into life, bright and heavy I think only of things other than myself.

Sometimes I dream you tending a garden inside my own ribs: vines of plump grapes and lychee nuts, the miasma of valentine trees and the talismans you hang there.

Nothing is interesting to me that is not you, you whose larger hand led mine around the first silver curve.

Tonight I ask you to carve out hearts and bring them to me bloody. Everything about them is raw sinew, loam dark fertile dirt.

You say no because you always say no. This is how you nurture me with denial, you gave me this morbid want.

I am mercury sap with which you and your sculptor's touch fabricated a girl. And I learned that a girl is nothing

if she is not/made wholly of desire/if she is not/carved from the womb.

Whenever I test how sharp the knife is, I always hold it to my own wrist.

[lunarpoems]

its not that linear

There is a way to suggest the infinite in each object, which is to say here is how to capture a firefly, how to key death in the perfect note. Outside we forget the viperous roam of dreams.

In the tender husk of madness there is a bloodstone ruby, slow pilgrimage of wanton prophets whose binary opulence burns away every landmark. I still think that god is only God when he sets a church on fire.

Come to bed with me you terrible thing. Let's break apart into canary yellow prisms,   shed our dormant seeds, slowly undress our years without celebration.

The strangeness between us opens like a trench on the ocean floor, crows circle the wide sky and you take me into your mouth holy as a sacrament.

I surrender my thirst for light. I surrender my need to be healed, or the idea that there is something I need to heal from.

If I could be anything in the world, I would.

[lunarpoems]

this is not really a poem

We revolve around each other, the great unsayable thing gets greater. This is actually a transformation system, I know it's called a poem and it looks like one, but a slow dance between the moon and a shipwreck isn't really romantic, is trying not to drown. And the clouds look like roses smell, and the ocean is a lot of music, and the bottle of wine is poured out into the sink, and the stars are all liars, and the ritual is absolutely human, and the roses are dead.