Writer | Copy Editor
Open the door to the stars and lead me.
Jagged dark, the backdrop to moonlit points on restless waters.
Twinkle, lightyears away, our breath frosting in the void.
I am clawing for locks and keys and the respite of the shining light …in your hollows,
in your center.
Rainbow auroras, the swipe swirl of fingers,
and lips whispering of faraway places in the sky.
Stranger, bring me to the dark. There are salty swells that lull the hull, and I am swirling, hurtling toward the abyss.
A cold ache spreads throughout — a voracious desire beyond the quell.
Those books bang, such a ponderous sound, the vibrations and expectations.
Bring me to the dark. The candlelight and the anxious warming breath, unrelenting, fast and impure.
Lieutenant, we feel the difference in the darkness, and honesty uncaged and wild. Leadership surrendered and our minds bear, forcing toward the blue-black of spattered stars.
Secretive voices are wispy rasps, and I lament my life’s beat; how far I’ve allowed his hands.
Pirate, please.
Golden knuckles and calloused touch — the skeptical brow and petrified gaze. That pounding, desirous pulse. Bring me to the dark again.
He is heavy in the chest — his limbs like petrified bark. Sweat dapples his brow, and there is a cloudiness in his sight – a type that even enchantments cannot correct – a poison that courses through the tiny tubes of his existence, striking and thwarting all that makes his matter.
She is a summer storm as she works, her hands muddling and concocting. He eases as he hears her careful worrying, ad he minds the beating of his heart: fast, then slow, then fast again, and then slow. Sun behind clouds, then moon, then sun again, and then dark.
Rain pearls touch and slough off leaves,
damp fog languishes and rolls.
The sodden tread nears, and breath;
crisp, fresh, upswept, and sharp.
Shining shapes upon flesh —
flashing, brilliant;
eyes like a breaking dawn, cresting sun.
Brush near the throat, the manic beating,
and sign to me of sands and terrors.
Open-lipped and torrid, seasoned by galaxies and dust, we resist.
This, in our secret silence,dark star,
vibrating daydream.
Late summer’s long shadows hide a sparkling shimmer of dying warmth.
Notions swept up in cool breezes,
and fermented dreams linger in the strange science of failed connections.
There, the sounds of a stranger’s voice,
an exhale, and a kiss that’s never been,
drowning in the lustful, coated swirl of a drained cup.
I’ll be waiting there, in the dream space,
painted with stars and drops.
Stir the current with your way,
and find me.
A calm sway — bend and creak.
Descending steps, those salt-stained timbers;
searching eyes.
Weeping wax and fading light,
the dance of wool, buttons, and station.
Skip the beat; touch easy the pulse,
sweat the gaze and quiver.
Lower deck into the dark.
Give way the cautious grip, push the torrid struggle, and wait.
Far aloft, stars unseen,
space falling, a thousand drops.
Secrets and hands —
that wild torrent of should not,
but we, meteors ourselves.
He and the place,
so worn; so wild.
Eye lines and the deep crags,
wind strapped and rain.
Vision, painted hazel and the earthen touch.
Green and blue flashes;
immortal rolling turf, and white swept dome.
A tenor utter in the gale, and carried,
while hands touch, and furs caress.
Up here, highlands.
The sun’s meddle, groping milky throats,
and fingers, leather, and golden-tipped curls —
crafted in gasses; smoothed by loughs.
Brandy tongue tousle,
and ancient shadow stones.
White and soft — so, so white.
The badge, the tag, the sensation of bleach and clean, and iron, concrete, and walls.
Invisible fate; metal maw and melting bones, the frantic panic of the chest.
Smoke, the roaring beast,
squealing steam, and the rattle of throats; buried ghosts.Red and burning — so, so red.
The hand, the scalding palm, the sensation of seat and fear, sky, world, and centuries.
Charged ingot, betrayer and thief, the frightful hurry of the poisoned pulse.
Breathe, the eyes,
pulling color, the fear of that greater dark,Dashed heart, and the robbery of time.
Panting breath, sickened touch, and perpetual, dangerous love.
Golden neck, jeweled flash,
such dirt and religious plots.
The sweeping sky, look loft and about,
blue and feathered white.
Yours, the knitted brow, kissed by cool green stalks,
and I, floating as in the doldrums, the endless spin of nowhere.
Water laps, but not a bird cries, or a step makes.They’re coming, love, they’re coming.
Run the black mud and rattle the heart,
a kiss in the dark.
Golden loop, dusty curls,
steel and swords and death.