Three Years of Twitter Verse

From 2009 to 2012, I spent some nights — many of them after the Kyklos Apollon ritual, which is why so many were written on Sundays — posting weird verse to Twitter.

Because I’m about to delete that old account, I thought I would share the content of the tweets here, as they evolved into a devotional practice, and I want to make them available. The way social media works now is not designed for persistence.

Two things to keep in mind: (1) I was 21 for more than half of 2009; I am 31 now, and some of these are dated. (2) Some of the imagery is a bit disturbing.

Ie paean.

Date Tweet
Sunday, April 5, 2009 She sleeps in a kaleidoscope of twisting dreams where the ghosts of midnight die and words stretch out for an eternity of milliseconds.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 I am not Eternity; she crawled through the bathroom window to run through grassy meadows where the mosquitoes eat her away drop by drop.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 Catch raindrops under your tongue and exhale flowers in the night made of dying stars. Ride the solar wind; you are home.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 Bathed in electromagnetic waves, she leaned against a doorway. Hour-counting cracks her skin; she wastes away to bones and windswept hair.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 Catch words on your tongue in the court of the king of the swelling giant spewing particles from its navel-tunnel-rabbit-hole. Write future.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 Arms back – talons – wet blood, broken sinews. From there they grow, rising green in the summer sun, fed from the ashes of millions.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 Dreadlocks spit acid; she heaves her hair back, burning faces and hands. The dolls smile wordlessly as vines rope them in.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 I am she who spits amber words on the ground to shatter in soul-drenching light and screaming neutrinos. Keep me underground with the mist.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 Serpents shatter eardrums with quick-flicking tongues, blind with the light glancing off their skin. Worlds die, crushed beneath shed skin.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 Night kiss means shadow-steps, tongue-blades scraping skin, scent of jasmine in the courtyard. We exist in cracks between dreams, your lips.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 Limitless mouths burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Ultraviolet, infrared lashes, herein newborn birds taste their first souls.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 We weave incandescence, the tapestry of lies and truth, the two-sided coin beneath the dead man’s tongue. We cut him from bleeding vines.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 Hold her veil of night in clenched fists. Rip it from her eyes. The stars fall, scattered across the midnight sky.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 Vines burrow through flesh toward the brain, dislodging blood to replace with fine intoxicating sap. Count the grapes falling down his chin.
Sunday, April 5, 2009 I oscillate, following magnetic fields without will; between the green earth and harsh light, I hang by my hands and watch without seeing.
Monday, April 6, 2009 Dandelion seed cities blow on the wind. Colonies stick to my shirt. Immature petals stain my fingertips, yellow as smoke-free cigarettes.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009 Lighter, strike, flame: all these things mean worship, the eternal song and voiceless cry. Secret and known, your epithets ring in my ears.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009 They pass bearing palms and figs, dates and oil. White-robed girls ankled with bells teach rebirth as men slit throats in the taurobolium.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009 We gouged smoldering stars from sky-sockets, ground them into fine hot clay, mixed with the blood of a thousand dead worlds.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009 Seven stars sang in the skies, dancing in their solar winds, while the watchers basked in their gamma radiation, decaying with each second.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009 Furies slashed her open at the navel as he watched, bound with his own sinews to the atomic clocks, the debt of divine intervention.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009 Cavern spray showers pictographs with water. Their voices echo, inhuman, as luminescent dead eyes witness the eternal night overhead.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009 From star-ash and iron casts, we fitted the molecules together, breathing lightning into being in the clay-rich muds of the first worlds.
Thursday, April 9, 2009 Kissing stars burned her lips black as midnight, writing tales turned her hair to wet ink. If you ever embrace that cold body, read the  …
Thursday, April 9, 2009 stories that spiral up her arms like twisting smoke from a harlot’s cigarettes illuminated by a small-town bar’s bare bulb.
Thursday, April 9, 2009 @TheDreadess Electromagnetic waves strobe; you listen with eyes, speak with fingertips. I offer thanks. From the green sun comes revelation.
Friday, April 10, 2009 Mist is my transient lover who shields me from cliff-creeping dawn, who dies and is resurrected with each setting sun.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009 My soul upon which they wrote the secrets divulges nothing without heat, nothing without light; I dance on the wind like an origami bird.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009 A thousand shards of glass winnow in sunlight, winding together like light-culled vines or deoxyribonucleic acid tendrils. We are homeless.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009 Dangle your feet above the dark hole as you pluck your own innocence away. Its warning bell alerts the ruler: who is blameless now?
Tuesday, April 14, 2009 Blade-ribbons in her hair whip against my skin; she draws me in; my mortality resists. When she enfolds her lips around mine, I am reborn.
Sunday, April 19, 2009 Innocence stands in a field of daffodils, lost among them in her yellow dress like a boat in the limitless sea.
Sunday, April 19, 2009 Terror dragged them down through worm-rich soil by the ankles. The holes they left remain open Earth-wounds from which monsters come.
Sunday, April 19, 2009 Let the incense rise from the altars; abandon neither them nor righteous dissent. From the cracks comes our strength.
Sunday, April 19, 2009 Thoughts beat at the window like birds demanding entrance only to trap themselves unwittingly in my mind where they echo like shades.
Sunday, April 19, 2009 One grasped the multitude from behind, pretending friendship; this one showed them serpents in boxes and trees of plenty.
Sunday, April 19, 2009 Pull the blood-drenched vines from her arteries; analyze them beneath the microscope, find the secret of this brutal baptism into paradise.
Sunday, April 19, 2009 Grace put the seed in her mouth. It tasted of copper and old coins, grapes and mavrodafni. All who swallow meet Hades; all become his bride.
Sunday, April 19, 2009 Running again; he chases; I am chaste. Curling my legs together, I dress myself in the bark-armor of the wilds, unbroken yet tamed.
Sunday, April 19, 2009 Hook blue hair around her ears; watch the diamonds sparkle in her eyes. An eternity of stars passes in and out of being within her head.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009 She blows paper swan thoughts in her cupped hands and watches them rise in the setting sun.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009 Selene peeks out from her veil of clouds, the slender maiden in a gray chiton, in the first steps of her circle dance.
Sunday, May 3, 2009 Seven worlds pulsate beneath her fingertips. From the word they begin and end; in her mind instantaneous eternity finds expression.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009 Anticipation holds your eyes glued to the deep gray sky. You stand on the mountaintop, your arms upraised to receive and burn.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009 Take and give an eternity of morning, raise yellow oils to the dawn sky. He is there watching from the shadow of a sycamore tree.
Sunday, May 10, 2009 Touch your serpentine tongue to my fingertips. Let them run across pages and keys capturing the universe in leaves blowing on the wind.
Sunday, May 10, 2009 Green comes up from the ground to meet her sky-yellow hair; chlorophyll encircles the corn woman’s rich offerings, given freely to all.
Sunday, May 10, 2009 Still your tongue. Pretend it is glass against the roof of your mouth that an artisan made for her portfolio shown only to the worthy.
Sunday, May 10, 2009 Fire is purification, the breaking of bonds. We pass into the sky as smoke and catch in a new baby’s breath like tar soot. We become her.
Sunday, May 10, 2009 Give the blue one her due; put coins in her mouth and ribbons in her hair. She spends her evenings in the house of the sun drinking tea.
Sunday, May 10, 2009 Follow the red road down to the caves where Pandora lies with her box. Evil has gone from here now; out there it remains a plague among men.
Sunday, May 10, 2009 Cut tongues breed unrest. The chased becomes the pursuer while the poets sing tied to their lyres like bandits hanging from nooses.
Sunday, May 10, 2009 Writhe within her darkness. She becomes the darkness with red-rimmed eyes, the tears in the deep velvet night, when you turn from her.
Sunday, May 10, 2009 You blow away on the breeze like a helium balloon untied from a child’s wrist. He did not see you; the chariot had already passed.
Sunday, May 17, 2009 Music gives my skin heartbeats of glass that shatter in the blink of an eye never to come again.
Sunday, May 17, 2009 See the wandering girl. The flowers pull color from her cheeks and cut through her hair into her skin, feeding on sweet mortality.
Sunday, May 17, 2009 Heartbeats strobe. Red light collects on her arms and face, pools in her palms. Eyes shed tears the color of iron-tangy blood.
Sunday, May 17, 2009 The mind at rest from torment gathers strength in the secret copses of the mind, building serenity brick by brick.
Sunday, May 17, 2009 Words and images knit together; they are scar tissue on white paper. (Terribly beautiful, simply complex.) Keep the droplets on your tongue.
Sunday, May 17, 2009 A man whispers nonsense in the secluded dark of sap-pumping trees. If his ears kissed bark, the leaves would teach him the Fates’ tongue.
Sunday, May 17, 2009 Rest in the oblivion of dreams, row your mind through sanctified fantasy. The soft tongue cuts like steel blades; the hard one shatters.
Sunday, May 24, 2009 An adder sleeps where the child walks, hidden beneath fall leaves. Reasonless, it attacks when she notes its distance from home.
Sunday, May 24, 2009 Thunder rumbles like passing trucks; creation imitates nature, breathes renewed life into it through metaphor, challenges it to exist.
Sunday, May 24, 2009 It waits in the darkness: can’t you hear it? It growls and moans with hunger, cries for your blood, and it rules the sunlit paths.
Sunday, May 24, 2009 The moon knows things you can never know. That is why she must leave; that is why she spins. Dancing, she knows the secrets of creation.
Sunday, May 24, 2009 Tattoo stars on her skin. This is heaven’s map, Earth’s beginning and end. She keeps it and waits for the time to scream—to let it end.
Sunday, May 24, 2009 Questions from apt eyes burn them like acid rain wastes away at trees. In this constant downpour, where can they hide but your open arms?
Sunday, May 24, 2009 Wind rips my essence away, tears sound from my lips and brushes tears from my eyes. Dispersed, I take shelter in you.
Sunday, May 24, 2009 Sixteen drops fall gently on her tongue from the heavens like rain more precious than gold in the neon lights of the darkened city.
Sunday, May 24, 2009 Take the mountain to the stream and run back again until your breath comes short and your mind awakens; this is the key to success.
Sunday, May 31, 2009 She kept herself in the rolling winds and tumbling rocks, hidden away from seekers combing through riverbeds and marshes.
Sunday, May 31, 2009 Starlight weighs down her tongue and fresh moonlight cleans her body, purifies it, preparing her for marriage with the dawn.
Sunday, May 31, 2009 Do not think that the wandering ones cannot hear; their plucked-out eyes drip vision and purity.
Sunday, May 31, 2009 Keep the path silent and pure. Shadowy ones watch in the distance, their hair torn and mangled, for those who speak what is sacred.
Sunday, May 31, 2009 Danger lies in serpentine tongues and alien eyes hiding in city corners, ransoming the future for pocket change.
Sunday, May 31, 2009 @annyikha The mind weaves itself into a helix that wraps in on itself like a labyrinth, the perfect antenna for divine thought.
Sunday, May 31, 2009 Her lips sucked petals from tree-flowers and sap ran down her chin like pure milk. This baptism of the flesh came without warning or need.
Sunday, May 31, 2009 Each song has its beginning and end, harmonies and countermelodies, woven as securely in organic tones as bone tissue. All else is noise.
Sunday, May 31, 2009 Destruction sees a fresh city before him. “Take me to the moon,” the masses say. “I will for slices of burning humanity.“ They pay.
Sunday, May 31, 2009 The birds sing in the forests. Dissonance reigns supreme if only for a moment. Below the surface, deaf worms go about business as usual.
Sunday, June 14, 2009 Her hair is like incense: swift-burning, smoke-giving. The smoke smells like pain and sacrifice as it rises in contemplation of the Divine.
Sunday, June 14, 2009 Wrap roses around your ankles. Dip your toes three times in the chilly water. Chewed petals make you drunk; he exists where time whirls.
Sunday, June 14, 2009 A girl stands on a platform beside choked weeds and crumbled brick buildings. She stares at the water. No one put a coin under her tongue.
Sunday, June 14, 2009 Ivy fuses the curvaceous and the straight: always forming lines, always twisting, always wandering, like his muscles or her dark, dark hair.
Sunday, June 14, 2009 Wrap the shroud around yourself, white like virginity and death. It fuses against your clammy skin, fuses you to me. We become eternity.
Sunday, June 14, 2009 Six eyes watch without seeing, speak without hearing, taste without feeling. During a war, all bartered senses for towers of goblin gold.
Sunday, June 14, 2009 Light thaws, rushes, creating multiplicity out of one, a river from sweating ice blocks. Too little creates fractures; too much, a torrent.
Sunday, June 21, 2009 Painted like moonbeam incarnate, she wanders the night alone, lost in the sea of wind-smeared faces, an impressionistic dream.
Sunday, June 21, 2009 Delicate flowers linger on her eyes, the promise of a tomorrow where cages disappear and once-ensnared birds take flight.
Sunday, June 21, 2009 They gambled with peaches covered in ashen designs. Fruits fall one by one to the fairest; she consumes them utterly and spits out the pits.
Sunday, June 21, 2009 The city’s siren song is madness, a rush of blood, a half-spent breath. When it rushes over you, you will feel all of it:
Sunday, June 21, 2009 Love, hatred, remorse, regret. It will burrow into you like a carnivorous worm, devour you and keep you alive, until you collapse into dust.
Sunday, June 21, 2009 You are my electromagnetic storm. Pulsing within me, cutting through me like newborn trees, you cut me off, yet feed me to eternity.
Sunday, June 28, 2009 A dead offering of flowers to the girl with snakes in her hair: roses for the husband she will never have until she dries up into dust.
Sunday, June 28, 2009 Moonlight is the spear point the ancients envisioned when they drove stone against flint. Curving, twisting, it always finds its mark.
Sunday, June 28, 2009 Sweet dreams and kisses to the girl with black hair, child of the summer wind and the winter frost, who built her home from peach pits.
Sunday, June 28, 2009 Wind paints her lips across the horizon, curls her fingers around the forest, bares her inside to soft night. Her essence abates.
Sunday, June 28, 2009 Pulses beat beneath my fingertips: possibilities and lives yet untold. Serpents four kissed them; my mind opened to glorious bounty.
Sunday, June 28, 2009 Aphrodite hides among the reeds. An apple seed necklace slides over her oil-stained breasts. She flees sailors who rut in shacks by the sea.
Sunday, June 28, 2009 Give me a raspberry to lay on my tongue. Let me crush the dye against my teeth; with it I will paint Saturn and Jupiter, all for you.
Sunday, July 12, 2009 Sixteen needles pierce the spider’s tongue, winding the way down to Hades where shades creep and the jade-pounders work at their wheels.
Sunday, July 12, 2009 Streams of electromagnetic illusions pulsate, reverberating throughout the universes and spaces between like sirens in cold, rainy nights.
Sunday, July 12, 2009 Fill me like a jar that once sat broken and open to the pouring rain. Cup light within and seal the neck with wax from the offering-candles.
Sunday, July 12, 2009 Red-dressed destruction wears tattoos of blood that streak down her arms. When she speaks, her silver tongue whirs and clicks like a watch.
Sunday, July 12, 2009 Between the sides of the coin runs a web where spiders spit silk in their mouths. Thousands lie in wait for dream-penetrators and thieves.
Sunday, July 12, 2009 Waking dreams smear essence across pixelated reality, singing through her veins. Sirens broke into her head one night and stopped her ears.
Sunday, July 12, 2009 Children lie in gutter-prisons staring up at the blue sky. Sunless and dreamless, they wait for the ones who stole their lives to die.
Sunday, August 2, 2009 Sweet navel, a blessing on humankind, you sustain us with morsels of divine nourishment. The time has come; we shall awaken to sleep.
Sunday, August 2, 2009 Rushing ivy covers the fence and line of sight; tasteless grapes obscure reason, driving the senses to madness. He is beyond it all.
Sunday, August 2, 2009 Rush and it slackens; pull and it gives greater resistance. Defeat through yielding, sleepless and in pain, to the laurel-crowned lord.
Sunday, August 2, 2009 Moonbeams stick to eyes, pulling gazes upward towards the crescent moon; waxing, she courts the rustling fowl; waning, empty wheat husks.
Sunday, August 2, 2009 Moments of time, strung on strings: blue and black, yellow and stormy red, they extend from timelessness—anchors to lead us home.
Sunday, August 2, 2009 Her living body becomes his servant; the vines climb up her wet thighs and curl around her soft belly; grapes burst from her mouth.
Sunday, August 2, 2009 Seconds from revelation, truth hid itself again, breaking from its cage to sleep until dawn when its birdsong awakened the world.
Sunday, August 16, 2009 Women spin. Stars dangle from their skirts, whipping around their bodies. From their sweating bodies the first rivers derived their waters.
Sunday, August 16, 2009 Keep her mouth locked with vines, her hands bound with the tapestry of life and death, lest she lead you into the subterranean world.
Sunday, August 16, 2009 Coin eyes stare up; sockets drip blood. The fallow Earth opens her mouth to drink the blood of her children and the marrow in their feet.
Sunday, August 16, 2009 Sublime clarity comes to the tongue-tied child; she draws it in chalk. Her teachers wipe away the divine images. I can still see the lines.
Sunday, August 16, 2009 Honey-dusted cakes glitter in soft candlelight; the night air hangs oppressed in the room. Diamond skin leaves no room for sweat.
Sunday, August 16, 2009 Awaken to reality, moist with your own lust. The room is filled with ladders to oblivion, each ornamented with glass shards.
Sunday, August 16, 2009 Clockwork nymphs guard the oilways, their copper hair dripping with engine oil and machine grease. These are the children of the gods.
Sunday, September 20, 2009 In that dress you were buried beneath cypress and bay. It was as delicate as tree bark and transient as a sigh.
Sunday, September 20, 2009 She glanced at me from afar; my heart took me to the altars of Aphrodite and Eros where the unrequited woo the favor of our arrow-pourer.
Sunday, September 20, 2009 Ethereal vastness, night sky: you hold them all.
Sunday, September 20, 2009 String the bed with ivy ribbons and hide yourself between the lace sheets that scrape against your smooth-oiled breasts, palms pressed down.
Sunday, September 20, 2009 Praise the teasing sun who dances through the summer leaves, fading and unraveling as he comes to rest in your eyes.
Sunday, September 20, 2009 Seven fruits of the vine greet your opened mouth, overripe and intoxicating—poisonous to swallow. Hold for the eighth.
Sunday, September 20, 2009 Spin in my ultraviolet daydream where the sun pulsates like strobes and the vines bake a husky green. I am the space between all light.
Sunday, September 20, 2009 Swirl in saffron, anachronistic yet genuine; keep the mysteries crossed until the right one comes for you to breathe them into her mouth.
Sunday, September 20, 2009 Undone, facing you on a moonlit night between the pages time stole, a dream never envisioned to last.
Sunday, September 20, 2009 Quiet the moving gold in your hair. Loosen Aphrodite’s charms from your strong shoulders. Slip inside my open chiton; enfold within me.
Sunday, September 20, 2009 She is given to wax-sticky fingertips, to feared candlelight, but still the dawn comes and the fixed stars shine, spinning.
Sunday, November 8, 2009 Secrets are baubles hidden beneath crisp white dresses and in deep jean pockets, murmuring so none but the intimate may hear.
Sunday, November 8, 2009 Given freely, decided — this is the cup from which the wine pours forth onto the hard, cold ground at midnight-light.
Sunday, November 8, 2009 Her eyes staring out from coarse roped hair, that rough skin, the untamed waves of her movements—all enticed—too fair not to be seen.
Sunday, November 8, 2009 Sing the stars into their orbits; cast the planets out like jewels in the Kosmos’s headdress. The solar wind falls like rain.
Sunday, November 8, 2009 The water is lethargic like a woman resting on her couch flipping magazines. She flips the pages between red fingernails, but nothing moves.
Sunday, November 8, 2009 A day passed between her ears, a night slipped between the floorboards in a rush of minutes: a flood that swept away all it touched.
Sunday, November 8, 2009 Gone are summer head-wreaths and sweet wind pulling her loose robes. She draws a cloak tightly around herself; obsidian crowns her head.
Thursday, January 21, 2010 The chrysalis unravels like braided spring ribbons. I am undone;—but still I search—a lyre plays beyond the shimmering sunset.
Thursday, January 21, 2010 String syllables together like prayer beads. Place them in the jar. Shake them softly, roughly. The order changes, yet they remain the same.
Thursday, January 21, 2010 Aphrodite favors you. Unseen, she strapped her breastplate around your supple torso; unknowing, you lean forward; undone, I desire.
Saturday, January 23, 2010 The siren speaks again, rushing like blood and water, sweat and glacial melts. Cracks spread; the statues melt, succumbing to their call.
Sunday, February 14, 2010 In dappled sunlight she runs, catching the wind between her teeth and tearing it like a wild beast in the grass; none has vanquished her.
Sunday, February 14, 2010 See midnight catch on the stones of the deep. They are beacons to the souls of those who once were, speaking with tongues of ash.
Sunday, February 14, 2010 In the hall of sweet-smelling wood, there is a man who smiles as he turns his wine glass; sharks swim in his eyes below the surface.
Sunday, February 14, 2010 Spring breaks on the shore with the celestial tide, moving us home. There were four and now one among the rushes, waiting.
Sunday, February 14, 2010 Two girls move like water around and through, separated by distance. They are two coins I clutch in my hand; the third fell to earth.
Sunday, February 14, 2010 In the darkness, the wheels move. You can know where they are, but you cannot catch their reflections.
Sunday, February 14, 2010 A mouth opens wide; life crawls from her breaking lips. The miracle passes into the world like vomit, detested and discarded as rubble.
Sunday, April 11, 2010 Keep sparrows on your right like that girl with the long blond hair, always looking for ways to make her way in, never right.
Sunday, April 11, 2010 Somebody once walked by the old mill long before time began, and they walk their still, glancing between cracks in the new house fence.
Sunday, April 11, 2010 Keep the spiral at your back like a photon ever-traveling, but beware of mirrors. They will take you back to where you began.
Sunday, April 11, 2010 Cut her and from within the birds will fly, mouths from the deep beyond the grids of space and time; she will fall to the ground like paper.
Sunday, April 11, 2010 There, they clench their fists; the world is undone. Drops of rain fall up in the sky and the rivers flow from ocean to mountain.
Sunday, April 11, 2010 A cathedral of sand lies at her back, towering in the desert. Look beyond the diamonds and silver hairpieces. Clutch the vellum tight.
Sunday, April 11, 2010 Catch the sunrise of a newborn star through the dust; sail on its jets deep into the black where no one can touch you but the Gods.
Sunday, April 11, 2010 They spoke nothing. One bound her hair while the other sewed her mouth. Screams are currency; she could not escape if she had none.
Sunday, April 11, 2010 Keep me in the clouds. The wax in my wings is still hard; I want to see the sky from up high, dark blue with a hint of stars.
Sunday, April 11, 2010 Beyond light and time, deep in stillness, they say to drink. There is no thirst: you have already filled yourself from the living fountain.
Sunday, April 11, 2010 Gates need hinges to speak. See that one? Disuse has squeaked its needy voice. Sit and listen; it will open a pathway where tame lions play.
Sunday, April 11, 2010 We make mockery of union, each in his own tower. Should the walls crumble, we will be left alone, blinking at the wonder of other faces.
Sunday, April 11, 2010 Sit. Pour sounds through your ears; listen to the wonders of brooks unheard for a thousand generations. Do not turn away from the dust.
Sunday, January 2, 2011 One fled through the dark on wings beating with blood. Oxygen-starved, it fell through the sky and the fire caught it, reducing it to ash.
Sunday, January 2, 2011 Let the light shine so bright it cuts you. Feed Lethe with your tears, memories drop by drop until she thrives and you are left empty.
Sunday, January 2, 2011 Something curls from beneath, raises itself up. We see flashes of bone and hot blood breaking in the night. Photons hurt my eyes.
Sunday, January 2, 2011 Give in once again to the rushing waters. Your flesh becomes cold; you are the river now, just thinking and breathing, keeping your head up.
Sunday, January 2, 2011 Papers rest neatly on the windowsill, churning and breaking apart, decay so slow none will see it; the ideas never rot. They alone save you.
Sunday, January 2, 2011 She breathes, and it comes in through her nostrils, down to her lungs where it meets blood and brain and muscle, this fire we call air.
Sunday, January 2, 2011 The gate opens, spreading tendrils of light in all directions. The horses trod them underfoot until they tangle and fall to Earth.
Thursday, March 10, 2011 A cornucopia of stars swirls overhead, spitting world system after world from its mouth, ever-flowing with new growth.
Sunday, March 13, 2011 No one found you among the rubble. They walked around where you lay, eyes on the sky, hearts gnawing their chest. Ruin sharpens her knife.
Sunday, March 13, 2011 Light bursts into being on thousands of worlds. Everywhere, waves crest on beaches and microbes squirm in the wet sand.
Sunday, March 13, 2011 Paint your eyes black, like obsidian. Hold your head high and know you can face the chariot of the sun.
Sunday, March 13, 2011 The ground has opened where the sun rises red and goddesses hide in clammy caves, shooting staffs into the sky.
Sunday, March 13, 2011 Words are serpents coiling up the throat and kissing another’s ears. We never know the truth of those we hear.
Sunday, March 13, 2011 The sky bends upon itself. It pulls you in. Look away from it or you will fall past that blue rice paper into the cold black.
Sunday, March 13, 2011 The world hums, alive, while the light curls up the horizon, resting against Earth like a favorite grandson.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012 The coin breaks like waves scattering through midnight trees, riding on echoes of mushrooms budding through bark and worm-knotted soil.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012 Fill me like a jar that once sat broken and open to the pouring rain. Cup light within and seal the neck with wax from the offering-candles.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012 Keep following and twisting in the mirages, bending between spheres and along spider netting, caught in the labyrinth of broken shells.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012 He gave her to the fens and swamp vines — lashed them like rivers across her skin to catch and pull her under — to grab her back again.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012 They stumble sidewalk-lipped with salt in their bellies and the ravings of delirium on their tongues, a sacrifice to deception and thievery.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012 The coins toss and tumble, but their answer always resides in the rumbling of the summer sky and the swan’s bone-breaking wings.
Sunday, January 8, 2012 Long ago, she came: a girl rotting in the fens, placed there by a poet, resurrected by archaeologists. I still feel her rough hair.
Sunday, January 8, 2012 Pluck them senseless from the vines. Suck red-stained fingertips and dye your teeth red with berries, plants that never will soak sunlight.
Sunday, January 8, 2012 Try to rip the sands from the beaches and they will still remain, the scar you leave only to be washed away in the cleansing tides.
Sunday, January 8, 2012 Snow falls on the houses, each drop a fragmented memory, sharp until it melts into the all-devouring earth.
Sunday, January 8, 2012 Cutting and mending, bending and breaking, they come through the forests, giants in their own minds, forever seeking eternity.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012 A boy pulls vines up by their roots. Thorns prick his tender fingers.  The leaves wither in the sun, yet this culprit remains, exalted.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012 Sweet like ink’s bitter bouquet, yet forgotten in sands unsifted: Without its taste on our fingers, what are our words but silence?
Sunday, April 1, 2012 Dark grapes drop from her mouth, slick with saliva, onto the wet, well-trodden ground. Earth devours them, ever-hungering, without care.
Sunday, April 1, 2012 Like a melody, this thirst that shakes through the limbs and leaves the mind self-aware and blind, wind through the corn husks.

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