a vampire’s mind
i ram the sun back into the throat of dawn till it chokes and passes out. over, and over, and over again.
for some of us, when the day passes into night, we may never see another morning.
the eye in the sky
They say don’t point at the moon or your ear will be cut. In that world, the crescent is savage and sharp as a knife.
They misunderstand. That isn’t the instrument’s intent. To those that reach out, the moon lowers itself, slicing off the nets entangling them, the worries that’ve pinned them. In this world, the moon is merciless only in lopping off everything that’s wrong.
For in the world that is a kitchen, the moon is the kindest chef I’ve met.
a delicious courtship
the garnish gallivanted round the kitchen
and fell into the lap of a dish.
smitten, he swore to be her protector;
to love her
and hold her
forever.and he did,
as they copulated
in the acidic belly of a diner.the already-eaten
If I dress myself as cake,
And eat myself up
There’d be none left for vultures
Thinks my foolish beating heart.If I dress myself as cake,
And act like a nut
I might confuse the vultures
Recasts that foolish, foolish heartBut the vultures have come and gone
Oh my delirious heart
And you’re pumping out last thoughts
in a spreading pool of blood.strange christmas tree
十二月的梅花 up!
the situation’s looking up tiny caretakers
Insects have hearts.
A tiny moth stayed the night on Friday, quietly watching as I slept. Twenty-four hours later, a beetle stayed the night, though I switched on the light outside for it. They turned up when my fiance had left and everyone had gone to bed, when I was all alone, as if to tell me, “hey! we’re watching over you.”
I know they leave when the sun comes up, because I never see them the next morning. And I’m grateful the universe sent the tiny ones to keep me company.
Insects have hearts.
leaves
getting saucy in a saucer fishy
I take the school bus home every night. Only I’m not in school any more, and it’s not a bus either. Concepts.
I fold myself into the too-small van and surrender my posture, like a sardine in an airy tin. That’s a clashing concept.
If you tilt the can, and pour me out: is that tomato sauce covering me, or blood coming out of me? Abstractions.
I am a fish travelling in tins to various dinner places, and it’s tiresome to bleed when you are bitten into.
So yes, I am bleeding.
But I’m also home right now, healing, like the vampires in True Blood.
Yes, I have been watching True Blood,
but it’s also true that I took the school bus home last night. Only I’m not in school any more, and it’s not a bus either.
Fishy.in deep water
Sleep is a stalker that wants my life, weighing me down like the bricks a murderer ties to his victim before pushing him into the sea. I must get away! I must wake up. Help me.
