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Description
100 pounds of shredded paper
scattered round me as i
sit cross-legged on the floor,
and still i cannot find
the line breaks that would pin
your mothwings to my shaking hands.
these ax-blunt words can only crush
your slight kaleidoscales
and quivering antenna
that dare to catch the chrysalis
in me.
they say that we can only hurt
ourselves
by clutching at the featherlines,
that eggshell phrases
crumble even when you slither past
on tiptoe,
that poetry’s a dirty word
and harpstring syllables can only harbor idols,
not messiahs.
but i can’t help but try to purge
the heavy words and weeds
that choke your eyes,
for you are the impossible,
unnameable unknown,
and i have lost my heart
to lamplight.

Description
100 pounds of shredded paper
scattered round me as i
sit cross-legged on the floor,
and still i cannot find
the line breaks that would pin
your mothwings to my shaking hands.
these ax-blunt words can only crush
your slight kaleidoscales
and quivering antenna
that dare to catch the chrysalis
in me.
they say that we can only hurt
ourselves
by clutching at the featherlines,
that eggshell phrases
crumble even when you slither past
on tiptoe,
that poetry’s a dirty word
and harpstring syllables can only harbor idols,
not messiahs.
but i can’t help but try to purge
the heavy words and weeds
that choke your eyes,
for you are the impossible,
unnameable unknown,
and i have lost my heart
to lamplight.