Oblivius

untame me
soft and unfocused
the universe spins and
shrinks around me

I am a giant in this
chromatic aberration yet
I am absent, fragmented light
dancing for stained glass galleries
consume me with your
color fringed eyes

express movement with me
fluorescent intent in each
of our strokes—
flat black paint pulled
across alabaster lips

the air you breathe is
immaculate
milky movement adrift
riding incense wisps,
our world has become bokeh
what are we standing on?

I have found myself: here
at this intersection: now

between aromatic impulsion and
the calmness of your mundanity
it is here we will sink much further

into this down-feather dream

Oblivius: A Gallery

There exists a dissonance when you finally acknowledge that which had previously gone unnoticed. It’s all subconscious consumption and blissful unawareness until you wake up one morning in a bed you’ve woken up in dozens of times before to find yourself someplace new– it is here you find yourself, once oblivious, now in love over again. After being gone so long, it is so strange to suddenly be back.

 

 

 

Entropy

the art of pressing flowers
is all about preservation
to keep voluptuous blossoms
at their peak, forever

dry them, meticulously
lay them between pages
of old books, press memories
beneath the weight of Tolstoy

leave them, you will soon forget
to return to the obituaries
pages eaten up with mold,
petals that crumble to
the touch

a two dimensional bouquet
mnemophobic
yet you have still preserved
nothing but ash

Memory Mines

cemeteries are always silent,
there is a certain hush that
arrives in death

I remember
you through my sense of
sound

the waves in the air
vibrate in my head just
long enough to send me back
to that night with you:

séance.

aural necromancy,
let us dance to the cadence
of collecting memories