Weight

Another chapter I'm after you, again,
I drained the fluid from my ears and
I ache. My eyelids are bruised and
Chinese water burns my cheeks. It's
never been so hot, never so warm.
The summer creeps up like an insect
on the fleshy lips of a baby.

The flies don't disappear in winter,
you know. They lurk in back alleys
and sell enlightenment to young Americans
because, of course, they're the ones.
I need to remember what death is,
I forget so often these days and soon
you'll hate me for my nonchalance.

Breaking my word

I said I would never put up an old poem.. But I'm about to. I've been trying to sleep and these old lines keep echoing around my skull, keeping me awake. Therefore, it must be pertinent, mustn't it?
Still, it's not quite. It's too docile. I must have written it when I was feeling both calm, and like this. Probably when I was awake, and also supposed to be awake. I like that it's calm, though, it feels less linked to me. I have been thinking about whether I should try to be more asexual, or whether I should have assigned that job to my surroundings. They aren't helping. I feel like everything is making me more and more feminine these days! Never mind. It's late. I'm babbling.

Pasture

Foetal bones crack their surfaces back
twist baby faces baby bodies smiling like girls
into gaping shapes of misapprehension
which seat themselves beside clocks
their handles tangled in vein after vein
ticking to the awesome refrain of the awful game
and fingernails on a child form last
so there is no chance that they will free themselves
crowds gather and smother them
but black won't arrive
red strings sucked from sticky pink surfaces
keep coming and coming wrapping around hands
which shake and sputter jagged mutterings spread
like immune deficiency and they all drop down
before the babies
before the sunshine
before the rabbits rush back to warrens at dusk
to avoid saliva vultures loving their hind legs
countryside is pretty when you don't know the time.