slumbering in the fires

        and what of these beasts defanged and starved      dehorned and vulnerable         and what of all we've built deformed by fire ...

                 it is past 4 am          or almost                        4 or somewhere in between              and you ask- what are you ...

i am the raven no, not the eagle, perched atop your heart. heralding its breaking. a twisting in the wind, a whipping of its chambered reces...

the night is now without its beasts and creatures - alone and flat and silent. we followed the ringlets and kinks of smoke  over the horizon...

the continents are on fire. and no one is surprised. this is what we have been working toward. and this is what we reap. clutching ou...

in the holding of that, with which my hand holds no thing no more of that within it emptied out and no one i became and oh! if I...

i’m hardly ever sure of the things i write and whether i should have written them but this was a writhing phosphorescent worm and here...

i step outside and my mind goes blank. all I planned to do vanishes. i feel this sense of prolonged absence like I've been away. awa...

i trust that my labors are hallowed, propelled by an unfathomable deity. not by the god you profess to know or the one you swear to und...

ho! and judas, with his left hand of envy and his right of greed, toppled over mountains and whipped down the trees; driving the bit...

oh! my injured brother. my lost tormentor. you beast of the severed hand. travail through these nights of fire, sifting through the bo...

we've crawled over these sprawling cliffs of ash; built up palaces of tangled bones and branches; but even now, even these venera...

at 2:52 in the morning in the stagnant black canyons of insomniac fever and self defeat I miss making things I once made. and my brai...

one more hour and then another with our backs against the fires in this stifling pitch and the dogs starving and restless pacing lonel...

the wolf drawing crimson from the throat of a unicorn its beastly eyes glazed with fear and death you hold nothing in your burning ha...

after what most couldn't call a night you awaken to a congeries of churlish sutures snaking up the palm of your resurrected hand. ...

with the strength of will and the benevolence of cowardice the unfolding of a midwestern gothic in the deep dry night when these tired...

in the soft light i have forgotten these things that i stood with and against softly upon my nape i feel that chilled patter of time ...

we stand in huddled masses hunkered against the driving snows dreaming ourselves sheltered but in actuality waiting with dumbfounded ap...

all these lowly beasts of your flowered heart drag you off into and through those fields on fire you’ve cut the heads off your tin fo...