crack my bones to see me glow
break my heart and I'll give you my all
take my breath and I'll thank you
with my last gasp of air
rip my skin and I'll
make sure you're alright
smash my face and I'll tell
them it was an accident
because you could never wrong me
you just have you days
it's my fault
I made you into this monster
but this is all wrong
you should be holding me gently
but instead you're throwing me away
to the lions
old moon rising in Leo
the bones of ten thousand kings
litter the highway.
when we walked by the sea
sand, green water, snow
on the dunes "what's the use of-"
your head now in my
lap, the car sways
through the Milky Way
I'm lying soaked on the earth
with the moon
around me, tickling
my fingers, circle within circle
everyone asleep, the hills
pass. I smoke, the jug
half-empty. at this moment
Through the thickest parts
of night's veins
we crawled
clinging to each other,
but you still cannot see
my animals have died at your door.
You will not let me impale my hunger
on your razor stare.
You cannot hear my bones
crying to you.
Nothing can connect me to you.
We drop into craters of time,
rock jaws sleeping in serpent skin.
In the tangled music of
broken shadows we
strangle our lives
My bloodstream is full of cement,
My bones are the consistency of the 0 calorie jello I prayed would make me skinny.
My tongue is tainted with the taste of you, and oh god, you think it's funny.
You're the smell of stomach acid on my finger tips,
You look like skin wrapped ribcages and yellow teeth.
You're ghost lingers after dinner, and lulls me to sleep.
Small yellow stones
That, lifted, through my idle fingers fall
Leaving a score--
And these I toss between the parted lips
Of the lapping sea,
And the sea tosses again with millions more--
Yellow and white stones;
Then drawing back her snaky long waves all,
Leaves the stones
Yellow and white upon the sandy shore....
As they were bones
Yellow and white left on the silent shore
Of an unfoaming far unvisioned Sea.
We heard the thrushes by the shore and sea,
And saw the golden stars’ nativity,
Then round we went the lane by Thomas Flynn,
Across the church where bones lie out and in;
And there I asked beneath a lonely cloud
Of strange delight, with one bird singing loud,
What change you’d wrought in graveyard, rock and sea,
This new wild paradise to wake for me....
Yet knew no more than knew those merry sins
Had built this stack of thigh-bones, jaws and shins.
Green star Sirius
Dribbling over the lake;
The stars have gone so far on their road,
Yet we're awake!
Without a sound
The new young year comes in
And is half-way over the lake.
We must begin
Again. This love so full
Of hate has hurt us so,
We lie side by side
Moored--but no,
Let me get up
And wash quite clean
Of this hate.--
So green
Here lies one who tried to solve
The riddle of being and breath:
The wee blind mole that gnaws his bones
Tells him the answer is death.
The lawyers, Bob, know too much.
They are chums of the books of old John Marshall.
They know it all, what a dead hand wrote,
A stiff dead hand and its knuckles crumbling,
The bones of the fingers a thin white ash.
The lawyers know a dead man's thoughts too well.
In the heels of the higgling lawyers, Bob,
Too many slippery ifs and buts and howevers,
Too much hereinbefore provided whereas,
Too many doors to go in and out of.
When the lawyers are through
What is there left, Bob?
Can a mouse nibble at it
And find enough to fasten a tooth in?
Why is there always a secret singing
When a lawyer cashes in?
The knees
of this proud woman
are bone.
The elbows
of this proud woman
are bone.
The summer-white stars
and the winter-white stars
never stop circling
around this proud woman.
The bones
of this proud woman
answer the vibrations
of the stars.
In summer
the stars speak deep thoughts
Sling me under the sea.
Pack me down in the salt and wet.
No farmer's plow shall touch my bones.
No Hamlet hold my jaws and speak
How jokes are gone and empty is my mouth.
Long, green-eyed scavengers shall pick my eyes,
Purple fish play hide-and-seek,
And I shall be song of thunder, crash of sea,
Down on the floors of salt and wet.
Sling me . . . under the sea.
I should like to creep
Through the long brown grasses
That are your lashes;
I should like to poise
On the very brink
Of the leaf-brown pools
That are your shadowed eyes;
I should like to cleave
Without sound,
Their glimmering waters,
Their unrippled waters,
I should like to sink down
And down
And down ...
And deeply drown.
Would I be more than a bubble breaking?