is that a space helmet or a halo? god’s never been to the moon: he’s lost in the stars. maybe divinity is just forgetting. losing the earth for the sky, selling out to the void. maybe divinity is just apathy. the absence of a reason to look back.
Tag: spilledink
(Poems) – sleep need not apply
I’m tired of closing my eyes, just the same way I’m tired of bitter coffee and my own burning chest. the way I’m tired of losing time on dead end streets and in endless loops. the gps isn’t working and the maps are wrong. my words aren’t good enough and the paper comes double-edged. it …
(Poems) – happiness
in the way that it is the most rotten fruit to swallow. in the way that it haunts me at night and kisses me in the morning. in the way that it sinks but I can still touch it so I sink with it. in the way that it hates to be written and loves …
(Poems) – falling action
there’s red in the sunlight, i can taste it in my tongue: heavy and holy— i’m dying in the sunrise with hollowed bones but no wings. I never left my country, barely left my home. the morning burns my eyes, and it’s quiet here, alone.
(Poems) – constellations
the best thing about the stars is that they aren’t watching us too. we drew the lines ourselves. god isn’t going to come down and set our aim true. there aren’t enough fingers to pull blame into a straight line. there isn’t another white man leading the earth on its revolution around the sun. or …
(Poems) – picked clean
you ask me to make more art but the vultures have come and gone. My body has been stripped for parts, any gold or silver stolen for the pawnshops. My head has been rusted for so long that you can’t tell the broken parts from the living Coal and gas fumes choke you with the …
(Poems) – a Door inside – 112 words
the Door is as old as me.Sometimes I chip at it,And let a little through before ISlam it shut, and then I haveA story, or a poem, or a shred of somethingBigger, which I discard. i Know there is more behind it.An ocean ofSelf that I can never let through in case itDrowns me and …
(Poems) – frostbite – 58 words
A path unhindered: plowed and lit framed in bright darkness. I know the way to go. But a shifting silhouette in the distance: between me and the end A lover? A killer? An end or a beginning? I go forward: trusting with eyes closed— A kiss ringed with copper on my lips. A rose-scented knife …
(Poems) – first snow – 96 words
every year, winter kills autumn / with bloodlust / with joy / it steps away from the body with red hands / and cold eyes / and bruised knuckles / brother killing brother / cain and abel jealous over the life the other held / just as autumn killed summer / with cold eyes / …
(Poems) – townrot – 95 words
it’s been a year since I’ve left my hometown / or a century / the parts of me I left behind belong to someone else / and they’ve rotted by now / when I rot I do not die / I just grow thorns / I hope I’ve rotted around the throats of those who’ve …
He Who Held the Sun – 851 words
When the clouds blotted out the sun, and the ground turned black with death, the Sunholder began to build his tower. Rotting wind and doubt buffeted him day and night, but it didn’t stop him from rising the next day to continue his work by candlelight. Those few who still breathed on the earth saw …
(Poems) five for ten – 97 words
Go down to the corner store and buy me there / five glasses for ten / drink from me everyday / forget about me in the back of your cupboard / or drink from me once and smash me against the concrete / stomp the pieces into shards and the shards to dust/ rub what’s …
(Poems) – achilles – 54 words
The back of my heel is bleeding. But it’s not my weakness, or my downfall. I can’t find one part of myself that’s indestructible or strong or remarkable A Greek hero that’s all heel, with no great acts to do, with no story to be told. There’s no fatal flaw here other than me.
(Poems) – newleaf – 106 words
Why do I enjoy this? The dry crackle of dead leaves beneath my feet, the cold that drives me behind walls of cotton and wool. xx Why does being surrounded by death feel so hopeful? I know my deepest rot isn’t dying, my own cruel poisons. This is just my heart flipped outward, myself— a …
(Poems) – smilehunter – 162 words
I go out into the noir sunrise, feeling the knife’s edge between summer and fall. The pavement leeches my warmth when it can’t find any in the sun. Something has gone cold and we can all feel it, even when we’re sweating. x I hunt for my joy, the kind that sprints at the sight …
Sidorenko’s Writing 