[x]

systemhe said that one day I,
who have grown accustomed
to accumulating moons,
drawn like moths
to my Venus-brightness,
would meet my match.

he told me I would be
captured by the brilliance
of a star,
a Betelgeuse, a behemoth:
supergiant turned supernova turned
supermassive black hole.

he informed me, peeking out
from under my gravity,
his erratic elliptical orbit,
that one day I would be
swallowed up

and that it would be poetic justice.

SeashineSacred skin
where heavens and ocean
collide,

an imprint on salted lungs
an echo

of aching, of
a moonlit yearning upon the
rolling tide.

GhostsNight time musings;
hollow-eyed and shallow-breathed,
filling the spaces between clouds.

Quivering shadow skin…

And there are voices in the dark,
lost sighs and weight upon whisper;
but, we are all whispers here.

WinterbleederCurled around alpine legs and caught
within hollows and inclines of pale skin,
she carries her endless winter always.

It settles upon frosted shoulders and
caps heavy-lidded eyes, clinging close to
the darkness of each snow-flecked breath;
lingering above cracked lips and the
remnants of a long forgotten warmth.

But darling, don't we deserve each other?

(She'd been Spring's child before Winter's whispers.)

PaletteThe painted lady stands,
watercoloured
and waiting for a cab.

dismantledyou're too bad, too m
u
c
h, using my heart as your
c
r
u
t
c
h. who knew human beings could
hurt each other by the softest t
o
u
c
h, so deeply
and so very, very
m
u
c
h.

Memoir1.
Vert velvet slippers
and a mouthful of water –
dragonflies flit by.

2.
Twin evergreen canes
support the elderly bridge;
an unsteady crone.

3.
Citronella flame,
illuminating fingers,
out-bites mosquitos.

Rorschach's BlotRorschach's Blot

Spiders and bears and misshapen trees,
when the swollen fruit drops it bursts into wren wings,
salamander tails shivering, the color of bruised plums.
It tastes so sweet, the tip of a beak.
With a straight pin, I peck at my arms,
a Pollock of blood, swarms of carnelian bees.
Sweet sweet stings. The poison sings.
They say hallucinations, the saints said visions.
"Ollie ollie oxen free," they call running through orchards,
the evening air loosening, a grace note of despair.
There was once an apple and it was bitten,
poor thing, all hell broke loose.
"Tell me what you see," he asks.
"White," I say, hospital sheet

In stillness1. My bones are rocks, curved and exfoliated and shaped
by the heavy ocean storms in my lungs,
like cyclones of dust and regurgitated diary entries
have been lifted by the trembling earth
and slammed into my spine, repeatedly, until I bow
before everything more powerful than I could ever be.
And they are yours.

2. I love you,
violently,
like my lips thirst for more than your mandarin gums,
so I can eat through the hurt, clogged in your throat.
"My heart is obviously incapable of holding love";
let me prove you wrong.

3. Our sex lies in the pain along my neck,
where my blood has pooled and frozen.
I can barely feel my fingers or my toes and

O FevraleWitching hour, welcomed with a sigh,
bare-breasted and ink-stained in the night.
Half in love in this half-life half-light;

pisat O Fevrale navsnryd, dreaming
of the gods. Wanderer, today I died and
died again, and whispered prayers

to clasped hands… until the nestled
droplets fell away like sunrays at dusk;
and when moonrise came, I sang again.

Bleachingi.
So far beyond black
there has been a whiting

Ten arrows shot
and the moon blew out

Took my color as I
took her heart

ii.
Do not be surprised
when night follows

Puts his shadow at your back
and tugs at your ankles

I will be at your neck
a finger trailing

iii.
The moon
I rarely give thought

Her pale too stark
for my black

Her pale now paled
to yours

iv.
Did I love her?
No one holds an orbit

No one; she told me
black was much the same

well-
I'm willing to wager my pale
if you'll wager in kind

the cure for everything is saltwaterand my voice is choked with pebbles
and my veins are thick with ink
so i'll bleed out all my lovesongs
wash them down the kitchen sink
and i'll tell you that i'm leaving
and i'll flee this soulless town
for the silent sea is calling
and i'm not afraid to drown
and i'll search out quiet islands
let the blank horizons be
drench my soul in every ocean
sink my heart in every sea.

SerenissimaSlumbering suns
take a midmorning nap;
alleyways bright with
golden ladies,

their smiles canal-deep.
Nightfall brings guides:
stone sighs and dead light,
(never so alive).

MizpahThe crying wind
brings a

deluge:

lost
and blurred at
the edges,
you

become

a
whisper.

beaut(if)ulYou exist in the
space where beautiful is a
question unanswered.

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Memoir III1.
Thunderstorm
on the way to school:
roadside tsunami.

2.
Sunday morning—
burnt pancakes,
lined like Jupiter.

3.
Yin-yang cat
dozes, balancing
waking and dreaming.

4.
Cloud gazing in
the rain—tears of the
weeping woman.

5.
Hot chocolate—
marshmallow meteors
in a darkened sky.

Con AmoreCicada violinists,
and champagne flutes
brushing lips:

an autumn concerto.

MizpahThe crying wind
brings a

deluge:

lost
and blurred at
the edges,
you

become

a
whisper.

DebussyRestless under the
clairvoyant moon—
dreams quiver like
candlelight against
a long-lost muse.

MuselingRed wine rambles
curdle the air, but still
you dream; half-moon
body curled in the

lamp light. I am leaving,
I am leaving, choking on
some holy word—
the floorboards creak,

a sonata for my
changeling shadow
whilst you, hair tangled upon
the pillow, are spun gold.

PeonyAlone, but for
the red boots marching
through my

cathedral heart: I
am beating echoes
in this city of the

lost. Ghost-
stepping little girl's
dreams, I visit mama

in the night; but
flowers and wine won't
pay for her light.

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Euros' Inferno

by *Concora, Jan 7, 2013, 8:28:14 PM
Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

In a smoke blanket
mistaken for overcast, he
wraps us –
the wind, undoing –

and the old gum tree writhes
against him, but
we sit inside
with our homes on fire.

Euros' Infernoby *Concora

Literature / Poetry / Nature / Free Verse

©2013 *Concora

_{_{(My little island state is burning.)}}

#Glory-Be-Project 8-01

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~winterkate Feb 15, 2013 Student Writer

There's a beautiful enigma to this - so much lovely symbolism and description.

Reply

*Concora Feb 16, 2013 Writer

Thank you.

Reply

~winterkate Feb 18, 2013 Student Writer

Welcome!

Reply

~alexiscaitlinking Feb 15, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Beautiful. Great piece. Few words, but enough to envelope the reader!

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*Concora Feb 16, 2013 Writer

Thank you very much.

Reply

~monstroooo Jan 14, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Congratulations!

You've been featured in our Weekly Round-up

Thank you for sharing your work with our group

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*Concora Jan 14, 2013 Writer

Thank you!

Reply

~Adonael Jan 14, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Nature can be helpless - people do nothing. It's sad.

Reply

*Concora Jan 14, 2013 Writer

It is indeed.

Reply

Mood: Love

~ArinadaDragonspeaker Jan 11, 2013

I love the "and the old gum tree writhes against him" line...amazing. You're actually experiencing fires right now, then (or so I gather from the below comments)?

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