Tag Archives: tears


Do you remember …lia?
How I used to wait
every Transylvanian spring
just for your velveted self?
The air
was still rare
up, where snow
and the sky below
shared the dripping thinness of May…

Grandma always dragged me all the way through
the park,
for the bark
and your purple stained white…

Do you remember?
The pine cried amber,
like ginormous grains of sand
on the forgotten shores of my closing eyes…
and sighs
and lies…

Are you still there …lia?

Or some angry god has burnt you away
like everything else we love?

Worry not …
’cause if I’ll burn in hell,
I shall swallow all my tears,
to water within
each memory of your leafless scent…

Abiding deep…


Abiding deep,
like drying, reedless water;
unwanted, bitter tasting washer
of anything
offered, dumped, forgotten
there, where light has never thought
of dying…
Making its way
to any fountain, well;
to any pond.
For seas are salty teardrop oceans,
eyeless witnesses of what it was
when clouds were roaming free
embracing winds,
of south, of north,
of anywhere…
Making love,
raising wild children of prairie grasses,
smelling early of sweet dripping sweat…

My woman’s armpit smells of nails
biting hard my back’s skin,
my thighs, my arms;
of blood biting lips unwilling to let go…

Scar me oh woman, scar,
until there’s nothing left this flesh’s to cover…
Unskin me lover, hurt me,
until all flying seeds shall find their rooting playground…
Undo my former self, and hold me,
until our children, all shall wish to sing…

Give them our bones, my thunder,
until their song shall raise the dying…