between the pineswhen i ask who you are,between the pines by ssensory
do not tell me you are
it shows through
the dismal cold
is muted by lustrously
in folds of the moor,
is it applause?
a shudder curds
with sudden sleet,
how raw trees snap
into full body
apparitions is slow,
and heavy like
this cold ranges
from mountain forests
to stranded hangings,
giving frailty when it can't
between these pines i lie
you torpidly walk into me.
draft fourhow much strength would it takedraft four by ghostinafog
for the crane alligator-jawed
at night, to pull skeletal atlantis
weeds away from the harbour,
wretched sea of salt, you are running out of water metaphors
is it a tall white fire
weeping woman between high rises as the earthquake rages,
the tremors of an extended apology?
you don’t know; look at the ceiling it is shredded plastic cheese,
sweat-drenched elephant foot
the reoccurring theme has been a struggle without meaning.
you see things more clearly now,
sprawled out; the only
way out is alone,
to admire the wind-beaten dunes on top
in an atmosphere unbreathable,
a prophet in the desert, alone
and still, ;
14 night break sub-humanity we are all pieces14 by lakednunch
arrange my sickbed rachitic writer a steaming bulge of memory
this brothel is my rectory a ghost-home of wayward broken children
sunbathe on blackened streets like fucking dogs
arise thereforethis silence is the hardest thing to holdarise therefore by ghostinafog
like a chalice, bloodied newborn,
brushwood nest of pterodactyl bones
scattered across the rocks.
a lifelong roadtrip and you remark
how every coast is washed out fossils
and the brightness in the distance, unnecessarily blue.
this silence is the hardest thing to hold
above the fire
so you bend and pick up the unkempt branches.
life is a responsibility you were built for:
a hard shine in the eyes
unlike the slacking sea.