Tag: elisabethworkman

Occult clouds rhyme in my galactic mom
She spirals like a raptor in descent and

loss sugars the poison nest no longer mine
or I will be, which is to say I will

surface a plastic nexus
to sea change a sense

a sense tense
a never sense

when manic gusts 
dissolve membranes 



***



To stay alive
and totalitarian 
I smite the children with real gusto 

At the avenues of exult and wobble
my tottering fates despots and goddesses





***




Immaterialize
A scene pings

Legible gardens desire time
desert gardens, bones and teeth

Ardent sounds umbrella the gorge

Secret carcass sisters
rustle pages in a breeze

Always Rome time
to see your hands, ask what do I do

Eternal pulp	perpetual grimoire
and you with your hand in the mouth
of the lion

You alias Ire
alias he-who-talks-too-much
alias Little Noise
or Junker 
or God

And when the songs mock-scoffed in mirth the sky
between so hole-y opened      and we all 
fell down      pulled by some wild unseen    	screamers of 
the implacable current

Consolation at ground zero? a soft 
body	snow on fur	mem fires shimmer 
from dark fontanelle pulses      how to slip 
into the dream of time  as if into 
a hairshirt or daddy's robe  There is 

no resistance    only revolution	
another April  another fool in
an otherwise being another where 
in attention by which I mean desire	

I wanted to taste the ocean with my 
whole body		I wanted the celestial 
rose of M to make it so	 how it tore 
me to see         how I was scattered in a 
matter of speaking  repulsive in my 
bleeding waiting for the next out 	

But how the rose hummed how inside it was 
a casket and inside the casket a 
one-eyed mollusc a cycloptopus 
exhaling me how it was unappeasable 
I had to grow extra arms to hold it
how I have starved   how in a certain doom
it spoke to me   The weak worm hiding down 
in its small cave   wanted my eggs in a 
boba tea	It was a stretch	  a dropped 
eye-dentity 	a weird request to
liquefy like that but I did oblige and it seemed
I was delicious
harmonies of galaxies diamond in 
a sooth    Tasting the see   so long in the 
yooth And there was no more tea or mollusc
or rude rood me 

[for Feng Sun Chen, with a line from WBY's “To the Rose upon the Rood of Time”]

HAPPY CRUELEST MONTH! I’LL BE POSTING REVISIONS FOR AN APRIL 15 DEADLINE THEN NEW THINGS THEREAFTER. VERY HAPPY TO BE HERE WITH YOU ALL. XOXOX