[x]

starspunobserving the romanticism
of hooded cemetery kids,
smoking cigarettes pretending
they are not dead.

you were always so sure
about my uncertainty,
you watched
all my pick up lines
drop things.

we built the heat
of the evening from the solidity
of starlight,

pretended
that two teens at the park
at midnight
is the stuff of teen novels
(cliches dim on
our leaf-gold horizon)

your eyes darted
from the gray expanse
of the churchyard & wandered
in thoughtful
paths.

i wanted to ask you
if i could follow. shove
the words aside &
remember that i came here alone.

i remember our innocence
in the static b e t w e e n
stars

I Took To Howling With YouI was shy at first, timid in my dealings,
I laced the trap against my throat,
sang sparing, tip-toed
around your poems.

The tone, the slow vibrating
from the shoots of my shoulders
to the gleam of polished talons,
it purred around inside me.

Oh the song, Coyote,
the same resigned call, it
paled before you, swallowed down its insides,
wept.

I took your little hand in my big hand,
flew out towards Crow, and for a while
My Love, there were poems
and the world was enough.

I took to howling with you,
down from the branches, safe
womb of the tree, I spread
dirt between my toes, sang happy,

sang the song of free,
your wild howl

cliffcliff
e.bojnowski

on velvet roads,
I impale a belated dawn
with my incisors and
shiver with perfect leaves-

I have no qualms
with the dark hills
that slope
and stagger into
a bed of scorched fly husks:

where
the thrum of the ground
melds
with the rapids in
my clairvoyant ears.

the hungry look...the hungry look,

the wolves
weaving through
and around
the gully of your throat like wraiths,

we can feel you rusting, lost one;

i know that drainpipes and fenders
begin to crackle after winter wet

and that there’s a touch of snow
in all of us,

but no one,
no one could hold you as tightly as you do,
your whole body, bloodless in this arrest,

and if you will not let your fetters show
i will show you
there’s a place for going, and you haven’t gone there yet;

where quantum particles, once in contact, can retain a connection
even when separated

where you
wander up to a stranger
with your shirt inside-out
and say &lsq

earth circuitAnd when the sun sinks, the earth's skin crawls:

I.
I wonder if this awkward creature would notice me the way I notice him.
He's so tragic at his throne
I stare after him longingly.
And yet,
He never realizes that I'm the one
Who forever basks in his brilliant beams.
If only he knew how much brighter he could burn
[with me]
He'd light up the universe.

II.
I heard him speak of thirst, once.
The quenching lust of the stars had run dry.
So that night, I brought along a jar of acid.
(And how it gleamed in his glow).
I handed it to him, wrapped in taffeta ribbons,
screaming
I wish curdling joy
On my gurgling boy

still,"i want grandchildren."

that car ride ruined some things
threw a wine bottle at the wall
15 years sitting
it was good enough or
it wasn't good enough

all the silence forced
my pride to jump out the window
if any rested in her
she showed it off like a speech bubble
tied it to her teeth
slammed it in the door
had it under her pillow for months
and years and years and years

there was no statement
there was no outstretched hand
just steering wheel clenching
knuckles white and jaw taut

(all because who i bed was not her mindful of
timeline perfection)

i still think i'm a tumor

--

she shows it off like a speeding ticket
i

The Cat on the PorchYou asked me why I do not believe in ghosts,
celestial at four in the morning.
It becomes the common hour,
not a biting static shock in the eye veins like I anticipated
but dangerously vogue and precious
like a real diamond ring or sapphires on your breast.
No wood pecking or oil teasing or misshapen duck bills bleating
just clay, but lighter, lightest
and bright
seductive and crestfallen.

They bled Peter and Pangloss over a river.
I was wearing white for the funeral
humming 'home', the matronly letters
soothe me
clotheshorses and moonlight,
Mayan jewellery in my cabinet
the mother tongue kissing my molars better

But then there

on watching the night close its eyes on you1. I will not tell you
you are pretty.

How can the halls and angles of such honest humanity
be so pinched between sounds as elementary as these?

2. You need not be two stringent boughs of syllables
nor weave your viney bones abreast these five petty letters,
whirling in the fire of the river
Styx.
Do not attempt to peel yourself layer for layer,
leaving all the disgust behind.
Do not tally your body six &

and I still keep running into parked carsMama,
your baby girl's swimming
in dead of the night
hair, scarred knees,
overgrown weeds, and
countless pairs
of shoes-
with those
orange and yellow wheels
that hug my toes
and heels

I'm running into
parked cars
trying to get
my kite to fly
and hiding under
dashboards
listening to you
fight

I'm rummaging through
boxes of secrets
that Daddy tried
to hide-
solving puzzles with pieces
I'll never uncover
in these thoughts
of you

SimbelmyneThere is silence here, upon
stale skull tombs—
these everminds are stilling...

(And yet their tragedies
shall endure in the pallor of the
flowers in your hands.)

grassy field with rustgrassy field with rust
--------------------------

I'd heard about the old car, three miles out of town and all alone. I just had to see it. It was time. School was over for the summer, my friends were at camp, and I was bored. I set out Thursday morning for a hike, following directions that Uncle Will had given me. As the heat was still growing with the climb of the sun, I found the field and wandered around looking, and looking some more, trying not to be distracted by bees buzzing in the flowers, and butterflies and baby mice. Then it was there, just a bit upslope from the bottom of a natural swale, and just below the sky at th

despondenti.

"are you sleepy today?"
"yes."
"but you were sleepy yesterday."
"i know."

ii.

she stirs her pomegranate green-tea until it turns from clear to purple
setting it on her bedside table and climbing back into bed again.
her fingers follow the bluer-than-usual constellation veins on her wrists and down
to the freckle on her forearm and then the scar on the inside of her elbow
crossing the tendon as if it were crux.
and then she remembered that God hasn't been with her lately.

iii.

today is long and sunny but when she steps outside the humidity creaks her bones
and her skin starts to inflame.
she assumes that if getting the mail

Liquid Cityhere, at the bottom - lovers.
there are lovers disassembling
themselveslost in and to the
desperate motion in
of - waves.

- did you think the continents
moved themselves? see them slip,

in an open sleep. less go, come.
come and, and - again. trembling

here, at the bottom - their eyes
are lightless. hollow bodies left
restless,

the sea does not sleep.

Why I Don'tWe are too permanent
for the transience of poetry,
each brief line speeding on toward
the next at breakneck speed.
And I have never been one for writing
epics, you know that.

sea featherin the breaking of the morning we tore apart our ivory shells
our blood-red hearts are saturated in spume & sea spells
with the ache from the brine gathering around you
your ankles slippery, your mouth
moving liquid through
mine
i had never seen a more beautiful shoreline

gunmetal breaths
on shivering, silver shores

you were ebbing to my flowing
you were coming; i was going

i wrote in the sand that i was yours

on the coast i could feel
salt on my tongue - dew from the
ocean in my lungs
& i was your pearl
latched from the inside to keep everyone out
speaking in rhymes, & cotton tides

this is when you pull my body fro

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More from *Hfeather53

counting seconds and gray hairswhy am I sitting here
fighting the weight
of my eyelids as if
they are my enemy;
with blurry vision
and a burning sting
wrought with thoughts
of holy dreams and
pillows that don't
swallow me

with every tick
and tock
I feel my want
continue to expand-
it encompasses me
and sleep deprives me
from *thousands of
seconds with him

I'm a watchman of
our love
I fear
never a moment
of rest;
I count the gray
hairs forming
and sound an alarm
in a moment's
distress

unencumberedcan you feel the fire
burning in my lungs
threatening to consume you
as i breathe out
in an attempt
to invade you with
my kiss

lover,
take all of me
and hold me in
as each second ticks
threatening to smoke
you out

only in the death
of ourselves
can we say we've
been made whole
and purified
in this
pulchritude

be my
sepulcher-
i will rest
in you

and when your
ashen bones
can no longer
foster me
the dirt will
be our home

we'll give
of ourselves
one to another
and each to
the trees-
the leaves
will sing our
song in the
wisps of wind
as we journey on
unencumbered

the tattooisti'm memorizing every line
of the story you're rewriting
as you whitewash the stained walls of my heart -
as you plead for some holy manifestation
to spirit away those years of pain
yet, failing to see
my blood running white.

muscles spasm under the weight
of new words engraved on freshly scarred skin;
your easy hand tenses
as yesteryear makes an exodus
of my eyes.

in a moment of disquiet,
you pause to admire the work you're creating,
making boisterous claims of its unfinished beauty.

even with your bandaged eyes
and a deaf ear
to all my critiques,
i wait
impatiently hopeful.

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Submitted: December 12, 2012
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(Contains: sexual themes)

why we're made with holesby *Hfeather53

Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

Mature Content

comments and feedback are always welcome~

Daily Deviation

Given 2013-02-24

why we're made with holes by *Hfeather53 ( Suggested by *alapip and Featured by ^Beccalicious )

Critique by *MattVoscinar Dec 28, 2012, 12:38:07 AM

Hello Heather, good to see another piece from you. I moved this into DA-Poets critique folder because while this piece has amazing vision, there are things that can be done to make read more fluidly, make it more crisp, and make it more poignant. I feel with some edits that this could be a wonderful addition to the featured folder.

Stanza 1: I would consider removing the word "wanting." The rest punches, but all of the adjectives kind of shout at the reader by that work. Removing it would make the reading more concise and allow you to end on a one word line, which I am a fan of.

Stanza 2: I'm not sure why you started the stanza with a fragment. I would add an "A" before puzzle so that it reads grammatically. While grammar can be ousted in poems, there's really no reason for it here. I also don't understand "riddler's mystery."

Stanza 3: I want to ask a question: "Please" what? I think adding here rather than omitting would add clarity to the piece. I would also remove "hollow." It makes it a more powerful line.

Stanza 4: Again, not sure why the fragment. Place an "an" in front of earmark.

Stanza 5: I would omit the second line. It sounds like too much to me with the eye description and such.

Stanza 6: I would personally omit this. Being someone's crux
is enough to end this poem on (as is the fantastic stanza) and helps you avoid what is a highly overused phrase.

Remember, these are only suggestions. It is YOUR decision to change these parts and yours alone. Cheers!

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