DREW DAVES

under your waters

picking up

writhing tentacles

of candy striped

contrast

I tried to breathe

flowers of seven petals

placed carefully

with prayers for the living

like stems

pink

blue and green

soledad

soledad

the words

repeat in our heads

as we wind the prayers

the spin

the grin

the plight within

empty plinth

empty tin

no heart

to cry

to cry on the doorstep

tears and anguish

begging that

placid portal

to what?

to remain closed forever

to open if only for a moment

one last time

perchance forever?

it is of all the places

one might cry

the most sacred

the bed and pillow

only lead to sleep and death

while the doorstep

mind twist

mirrored eyes

flashes of yellow

hello

can I sit here next to you

smell you

tell you nice things

perhaps you'll

smile

perhaps I'll cry

and maybe just baby

I am changing

the wind blown shore

becoming less

becoming more

they call me wild

but

landscape

but features

no escape

your body knows they are there

it hears their buzzing

it knows their bite and sting

that you are their enemy

but you see nothing

you hear nothing

they have scratched the anger

scabrous and raw

red so red

like wine

in hell

they returned

the little creatures

made of neuron flash

and backlit in black

appearing halformed

then disappearing

to appear elsewhere

golems of the mind

manic drawn

she stares at me

her eye eggs

telling me stories

i don't want to hear

and her mouth

that void

too many teeth

too much truth

blood flows

from my arm

fat

muscle

sinew

bone

becomes a sword

I hold it to my shaking form

the gore is no more

just the simple blade

unadorned

but I feel the symbiosis

the flesh made sword

my hair wires

lead to my memories

glitch

forget

reinvent

I am not what I feel

I am teal

a disrupted blue

soiled by green

I once had dreams

dreams of such passion

that moon itself would

birds sing

the cool of the morning

transforms their quiet night

into a cachophonous extacy

I need some time

time to flatten

all these three dimensional boundaries

so I may step over them

hedges

walls

human spaces

looking at my tumblr blog

looking at the notes

my poetry has an average of either 1 or 2 notes

the sun is out

out on its stage

out of its cloud cage

everything is more defined

the blind see

when are we as poets

allowed to define

and write about poetry

to speak of it amongst ourselves

they have scratched the anger

scabrous and raw

red so red

like wine

the hand that holds

has rings that ring

their fine silver chains

end in silver shell bells