# and you, stranger?



## Scylla (Dec 29, 2009)

_a random collection of my poems over the years_.
_hope you like reading them as much as i liked writing them!_ 

________​ 
*
soil*
the back arched
the vertebrae rose
one by one, sunrise of many worlds
bones in air

it is of pale pink skies, a firstborn flush
and trees, against it
black and deep of greenery

it is of pain, abandonment
of bullets laced with gentle melody
of photographs within the howling wind

the hand moved
the fingers gripped
two by two, milkyways in every tear
buds of stone

it is of bodies, careening through the air
of fiery dirt roads, fields in silent grace
of daffodils, of loss beneath the sun

it is of others, days
of steady holding shoulders and of peace divine
of kite-tails fluttering in eternal breeze


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## Scylla (Dec 29, 2009)

*street lamps*
his name
hangs soft 
between beacons of light
a son
with two silver eyes

and he smiled 
with the lips of the stained and the fallen

his mother, a sinner
his father, grown cold
a death and two lives
both purchased and sold

and he smiled
with the lips of the stained and the fallen
and he smiled with the lips of the
fallen


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## Scylla (Dec 29, 2009)

*blair athol, oklahoma*
the wall was grey
as he pressed his back against it
elbows slung against knees
remained unblinking
when she shut the door behind her
fire-engine birds
they fell with traffic speed

the pavement was beige
as she set her shoe against it
yellow blurred
into oncoming light
her nametag blank
and her chest was numb
piped and drained
a dulling, writhing womb

the box was tan
as he hauled it into the boot
farewell to a life
that had throbbed with stars
the easy road
was fading fast and few
he played drums
on the steering wheel

the umbrella was black
as she closed her eyes
the coffee warm and inviting
a drink, a drowning
she plays the guitar now
she never used to

there is too much art
about love
so they shall chew on
politics
and war
and the way that tobacco kills
while their eyes are fevered
with slivers of ice
and their unsent letters
linger on in the dawn


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## Scylla (Dec 29, 2009)

*argent*
when Sorry and Thank you
and I forgive you
signal the end of a single melody
cunning and bittersweet
all other words seem futile in comparison
to the agony and the majesty
of the silent and the knowing

when gin and tonic
and novocaine 
can't touch you
Forever is lingering around the corner
behind the cyprus hills
above the black bicycles
on the white of an old Greek column

when Goodbye is all that is left
your voice trembles at the weight
the beautiful heaviness
the vacancy filled with everything beyond you
touched only by I'll miss him and 
her
on a proud and lonely inkpot

when the vision from the Spirit
is too vast for letters
skeletal in the early light
the Soul whispers
no need
the Heart whispers
Try


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## Scylla (Dec 29, 2009)

*9:42*
the heady rush of weariness, encasing
bones and eyelids. and yes, my love,
the déjà vu, the hope in half-packed bags.
there is no rest when a blue lotus
is fluttering in my heart, and as i sleep, i know that
they will pity my wish for nothing more than
simplicity.

but you, you understand. you understand the
tiny bathroom in the tiny flat, the mirror
fogged up with steam, the tiles
dark and gray, a twilight song on
winter roads. the quilt, the
silence
that lines your body on the white, white sheets. i turn my wrist
and lay the back of my hand upon your chest.
you are warm, and the blue lotus also
flutters in your heart. i hear it leap, leap, leap.

will they pity? let them pity, yes, let them pity
my lack of want for a thousand suitors
or fields of twenty-four carat gold. let them laugh at
the soft ascension,
the sweet sublimity of faded red on the old slide
in the park where you embrace my fall and i
embrace yours - or the steady flood of silence in your sweater
hanging on my shoulders - it is ours, darling.
all is ours, and we own nothing.
we own everything.

so sleep, and i will sleep, and lullabies will steal your sigh
as Sky and Star turn wine to water,
watering the blue of lotus of your heart, my
heart -
our night of weary, heady rush and our
simplicity.


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