Tag Archives: still life

liquid solid

The liquid solid

crystal leaves

emerged in during spring,

lived in July,

& shattered during the fall.

Then in the winter its dust made a

shimmering canvas

for the countless strokes of our many bloody footprints.


But you were sleeping and woke up

Continuing in

the reoccurring dream,

where you’re just a few stones away,

we’re talking in a light pink fuzz,

about my future plans,

but I wonder why I miss you

in an empty way.

I forget what happened,

but this morning I remembered

that you died.


We’re back in the same four walls


We’re back in the same four walls

I speculate a mix of phalo blue, green shade, and white

true medium, cool


Even though the windows are

so small

our atmosphere is light and warm.

We’re supposed to meet again,

and finally move past hesitation,

but I can’t make my way back to your floor.

I don’t know why we left the room.



The Price of Death

Stoned from the middle eye

centered in a suspension of mercury

and sifting through dune darkness

the combustion as medium

hits a point of placid aquiescence

in the tornadic antigravity of

motionless space.

Under bathwater rain,

you hold back the river

with a bolt from the blue.

More than the altruistic levity of a wistful recline

we change and are changed

waiting for a resurfacing that cuts through the cyclone.

The burial used to commemorate them,




and into,



and cosmically undisturbed.


Missing, Missing Persons

I’m waking up dizzy in an empty nauseous sort of way,

where the blood is flooding from my head to my stomach,

I know if I try to go swimming I’ll faint in the water.

There’s only so much blood pumping through these veins.


I haven’t cut my nails in a month and now they’re curling over my fingertips

but from straight on you can’t see the bowing.

I have claws for my own protection.


Sometimes I think I don’t breathe deeply enough

like the air I take in can’t fill out my lungs,

and I’ve only ever used them at maximum capacity when running for dear life away from you.


But as I come to the staggering point

right before I keel over,

I feel a sharp cramping

from most of the discrepancies

seen within interpersonal relationships-

of when to connect and disconnect,

how to gracefully miss the mark

of the absence in a missing

and barely feel the restless shuffling

right before falling

at the bridge of being your own person



After stepping out of a long shower,

the kind you take alone,

while everyone is out of the house,

and it’s dark since there are no lights on,

just so because

it’s even calmer that way,

there is succinct ringing buzz,

a humming heard at the break

between silence and the downpour,

at the threshold,

finally stepping past

the wet ground

to the cool ground

it’s the wafting sound of readjustment