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wreck divingShe dreams out loud
breathless horizon stretched tight
across the ether
into a swollen, ripening moon.

The purl, endless backwards motion
the body sinks into itself
and rises again

threatening to shipwreck
against the gales

until the light
pushes into dark and it is

light again,
another breath sucks in and
for a moment, crushed against

her own cliffs, she imagines
a normal day
without the need for a stranger's hips,

reaches out her hand, not knowing
if there is anyone reaching back.
edgebut it was not enough
to swallow the serpent & end the story here

leather-bound book & sky emptied
of light

a grave dug out, glass prism-prison,
chained to the edge, grass matted & dead

unlit, unholy, holding
an umbrella & still wet from the rain,

     two stars reach out
        to brush each other
            —flicks of light, soft as finger tips—
        & detonate

& a moon wishing, just once,
to shine its own perfect light.
some revolutionsIn the running water I list the ways I'd be changed
if I weren't born among angels.

She developed alongside me as a lotus flower develops its sunrise
contained in the gentle palm of resurgence dropping echoes
with each pink triangle falling in sequence until the light
had pinched time off the ancient face of the clock.
The AstronautWhen I think I've forgotten my
frailty, it comes to mind that
at eight or nine I nearly

killed myself in a public pool.  One
moment was plain.  Innocent.  I was
hovering through the shallow end

like an astronaut on the moon, feeling
the August sun blanket my
little wet head.  I did the silliest

thing:  I space-walked right into
the deep end, where the water
went over top, and even though

the shallows were close I became
lost and disoriented and began to drown.
Somehow the way my body felt -

the way my heart raced while gasping
for air, the chlorine in my nose, and
the wet
LouieLouie

"Louie," they called her. Not Louise. "Louie, Louie," her father would sing, nonsense syllables bebopping in his mouth, his voice making her nose wiggle like it does when he smokes cigarettes, "Louie, Louie, Louizze. Louie, Louie, Louieooi."
Louie pushes her boat further into the wild blue yonder of the parking lot. She fashioned it out of a torn piece of cardboard, a toothpick crowned with mustard yellow confetti sprung from a Denny's sandwich. It sails brave and bold on a puddle of diet Coke.
Her brother shoots rubber tipped arrows, Comanche Chief specials, at the cars in the lot. One of the arrows hit a wood panel station wagon wi
footprints  some days you are absent,

 and i sit waiting even if i know, that although
 your bike is parked at the usual spot,
 you'll be nowhere to be seen.

i never ask where you've been.

maybe you found a place where heartbeats sound
like autumn leaves swirling in the wind.

maybe you just couldn't face me.

  and you wear silence like a wedding gown,
  soft silk sewn together with a brutal honesty.

  there is no going back.

(she threw her regrets off a mountain, memories
carving their way through the cold stone, slowly forming

a waterfall

and now she feels no thirst, only
a longing slowly drowning her.)

in the end, you had to
ThursdayRumors of tumors, chatty neighbors, the grateful dead
A broken swing on a deserted playground
And bones; oh, the bones that pile up, more everyday
Thursday I had nothing to say

A weak and pale moon glares down at the snow, impotent
Stars in motion whisper my star-name, calling
Tiny spiders build homes in my beer-soaked brain
Thursday I had nothing to say

Pizza or Chinese for dinner? I can't hold a thought
Craftsmanship went out on a three-hour cruise
Through the swamplands of South Carolina in the rain
Thursday I had nothing to say

A brass-toothed journeyer shines a light in dark corners
Nudges and pokes at the beasts sleeping t
fireworksalt pulses in my blood
washing in and out with the moon's rising
the lights that flicker across the sky
are hurried breaths

and the orange glow of bonfires
spreads over the horizon like a blindfold.

night stumbles in, hungover,
stubble left over from summer

and leaves line the streets as
lines leave, like passengers at a parade,
like tides.

the metal stars fall to earth
and fill my mouth with iron.
beneath
it goes without saying:

everything

the air that settles
on your chest
awaiting sound

the language of your local fruit
the swirl of rind
their glyphs and runes
like sun-bent cheeks

those
bulbous blots
in utero

and creatured time
that sleeps between us.

i needn't tell you anything
or speak my way inside of you
you've doctored in all my aspirations

your furious dreams' wild successions
no longer carry
my peculiar
cursive

because
i am written
on
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More from *scatteredwords

devastatei.
The trap has sprung.
We are in free-fall,
wordless between open hands.

ii.
I am caged by silence.
To not speak now
is to never speak again.

iii.
Our voices swell and falter.
Halfway to the bottom, we admit
there is a problem.

iv.
My body bends like the
spine of a book. Too much more
and I will crack.

v.
You say there is still
time. We look to the light;
see only eclipse.
edgebut it was not enough
to swallow the serpent & end the story here

leather-bound book & sky emptied
of light

a grave dug out, glass prism-prison,
chained to the edge, grass matted & dead

unlit, unholy, holding
an umbrella & still wet from the rain,

     two stars reach out
        to brush each other
            —flicks of light, soft as finger tips—
        & detonate

& a moon wishing, just once,
to shine its own perfect light.
wreck divingShe dreams out loud
breathless horizon stretched tight
across the ether
into a swollen, ripening moon.

The purl, endless backwards motion
the body sinks into itself
and rises again

threatening to shipwreck
against the gales

until the light
pushes into dark and it is

light again,
another breath sucks in and
for a moment, crushed against

her own cliffs, she imagines
a normal day
without the need for a stranger's hips,

reaches out her hand, not knowing
if there is anyone reaching back.
tequilatequila, I had forgotten your
slow burn, silver tumble over tongue,
how you smolder a body from the inside.
Your guileless glissade down to the feet,
a liquored gypsy waltz, I sipped you straight,
Jalisco bottled under agave bloom.

tequila, you stole my breath in a
bar-room haze, falling fast into rhythm
and I couldn't keep up the pace, tequila,
you are just a lash of memories
I cannot quite remember,
soused with an emptiness I'd rather forget.
skinny bitch To the Woman Who Called Me A Skinny Bitch:

Listen: maybe someday
the lune of my shape
will swell into Archimedes' twin circles,
plump as dough spilling into a pan,
and it will be glorious—Venus of Willendorf,
live in your living room! A corporeal explosion,
live in your living room! The bulbs
of my hips arcing out, steering-wheel curves
with obvious grips,
all manual transmission.

And let's not forget
the fleshy shells blooming
under the clavicles, oh, those crested hills,
pale as orchids, phontinia-tipped,
an Aquiline nose casting shadows over
undiscovered country.

The modern-day Renoirs will
chase me d

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September 17, 2012
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muse

:iconscatteredwords:

It's not a heart you're hunting,
but breath and tongue
loosening verse in wind-rush:

Neruda, Levis, and Rich
cherry-blossom sweet
under a gibbous heart

and when the words
become just marks with ink
steal me
one temperate curve at a time,

taste the color where the chin tips back,
peacock blue then plum, emulsified,
until I desaturate completely.
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:icontwistedalyx:
~TwistedAlyx Nov 8, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Ooh yeah! I love "gibbous heart."
Reply
:iconscatteredwords:
*scatteredwords Nov 9, 2012
Hurray for Merriam-Webster's "word of the day"! :D
Reply
:icontwistedalyx:
~TwistedAlyx Nov 9, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
I picked it up from Terry Pratchett. He makes jokes about people not using or not understanding 4 or 5 words, and that was one of them. So I always think of him when I see it. :D

I love word of the day calendars too--great prompt ideas when you're stuck.
Reply
:iconarchelyxs:
*archelyxs Oct 8, 2012
Delightful. Love the rise and fall in these words. :heart:
Reply
:iconscatteredwords:
*scatteredwords Oct 9, 2012
Thank you. :heart:
Reply
:iconfuzzyhoser:
`FuzzyHoser Sep 18, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Oh. This is pretty. :wow:
Reply
:iconscatteredwords:
*scatteredwords Sep 18, 2012
Aw, thank you, darlin'.
Reply
:iconfuzzyhoser:
`FuzzyHoser Sep 18, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Yes, ma'am. :bow:
Reply
:iconjaybird101:
~Jaybird101 Sep 18, 2012
This is a great poem, I want to write like this when I grow up :D. You rock, girl and thank you so much for the dedication :)
Reply
:iconscatteredwords:
*scatteredwords Sep 18, 2012
Anytime, doll. :-)
Reply
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