New insecurity just dropped. Teeth, this time.
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I don’t wanna hear another metaphor about a dying star,
the final surge of white-hot light before darkness
eats the sky with black teeth.
i told her
how your love
felt powerful,
not traditional,
which makes it
ephemeral.
Unlike the old cities
or the dead civilizations,
you cannot build a new love
on top of the old.
I am no god
if it doesn't nettle
the divine rest
it kills my peace
executioners, look
to the water’s vigil
for beaten creatures
watch the river weep
in this gorge of fools
Shadows in the lamplight beating, all the ghosts within repeating
doubting, dreaming rare and radiant books of ancient lore…
my worst poems are ones
that I know best of all.