skinbyrds for life

the newest immigrants

I’ll hide in a 1920’s moving picture
and I’ll glow the way they do

I will be the Polish immigrant
hiding her last name in white

and the bullshit part of it all
is hate can be over something
so arbitrary

and yet you can still die from it

fit for a queen

you can count the years
in a lightning strike
you can chant the silence
between barbs of skywrite

because rain is permanence
the way an echo is permanence

and a termite digs a grand hall
for a queen, no bigger than a hand

dwarfed, with no idea
or maybe no interest

because grand is grand
and the termite is proud of her work

Please cross your fingers or pray for me. Waiting on the biggest poetry submission of my life. I love you guys.

zen

from time to time
I read the fire tongue
I know what can hide
in mountain chambers

my gown will drag
in the silt packed loose
weaving earth into hide
hiding prayers in the earth

shaving my head to feel
the atoms through my scalp
riding wyvern zephyrs with
a holy ghost transference

of thought

whispering Aramaic to G-d
this hushed gossip of the soul
my own soul tied with tides of tines
twice entwined with that angel brine

jakedenneypoetry said: I'm very much impressed by your poetry. You don't give a fuck what people think, which is miraculous.

Thank you so much! You made my week :)

woman seeking woman

I promise I look better in real life

I’m pretty funny, or at least I make myself laugh

I’m terrified of a lot, of spiders,
of open spaces, of bottomless sea

I have an interest in BDSM,
adult theaters, and voyeurism

lets meet up tonight for drinks
I don’t drink but I’d be content
watching you build a toxicity
while I think of ways I could die

I can’t understand the desire
for immortality, so many
headstones would pile up
scraping the innards of the skull

anyways,

I love horror flicks on mute

I don’t believe in astrology

but I will admit that sometimes
nomadic constellations can
still affect my mind

If I say I’m going to the river
you will need to search my
pockets for heavy rocks

keep me away from sharp objects
I can see the dotted lines that
are prompting blades to release
my DNA

if I’m hugging my knees it just
means that I am hearing the earth
scream and creatures are frothing
up out of the oceans

it’s no big deal, really

I want to cry in the Rothko Chapel
I want to die in Texas like all the
killers tend to do

racists are just loud cowards

I see the bald boy eyeballing me
nostrils wrinkled at a stench
with the swastika on his bicep
and the eagle groping his neck

taking in my pigment and the
river rapid curl to my hair
he won’t look me in my brown eyes
he won’t share the air I breathe

he’ll probably make up a story at
his next rally about how he beat
me into bone meal squealing German
and they’ll feel proud of him

like his parents weren’t

Be Nice To Me

lucille-berkowitz:

call me the mutt of greater Europe
call me the snake beneath the boot
call me the severed finger sobbing
still having memories of the hand

call it Eden
with its seraphim
fire wielding/walking/singing
throat songs from the heavens

call it the horsehead nebula,
with youngling stars
clutching its neck
sleeping in their nursery

call it a blood mist from a wrist
mixed with a barbiturate’s slow spit
collect it all with mop and bucket
kiss me, choke me, crush me, fuck it

Be Nice To Me

call me the mutt of greater Europe
call me the snake beneath the boot
call me the severed finger sobbing
still having memories of the hand

call it Eden
with its seraphim
fire wielding/walking/singing
throat songs from the heavens

call it the horsehead nebula,
with youngling stars
clutching its neck
sleeping in their nursery

call it a blood mist from a wrist
mixed with a barbiturate’s slow spit
collect it all with mop and bucket
kiss me, choke me, crush me, fuck it