Monthly Archives: January 2016

Mourning Lighthouses

Dream as if a lost child

By the fermented seaside

Encasing memories as if shells

Hands running into rivers

Of vertical salt amongst hissing geysers

Great watery laughter twisted

To the eyes’ starry void


Shadows beckoning the horizon

Within grilles of clouds

Hissing, frothing, deliberate

Mourners of the caravan and autumn


I am the lighthouse of darkness


Between Silhouettes

I. Amidst echoing, graphitized pines

Fire ants gag oblivion’s jar

Gifting their Queen

Granulated, bruised diadems

II. Foamy wombs where the sea

Still throbs, black and white

And a lighthouse brings forth

Daughter of hope, thistle beret

I. My heart is a river of song

Within your atlas of miracles

In the rafters of despairs

Beneath the gutters

Of high stars

And the padlocks of our mouth

II. The trains of rhythm ensconcing

Fervent springs

Undressing to tunnels

Of nude fortepianos

In brisk symphonies of flour

And brumal florist’s delight


Let us be the seams of kisses

Within the garment of love

And foamy dreams in the night’s

Shadowy net of carp

My Laura of laurels


Copulating clouds

In trousers of stars

Silent affair of the portico

And the road peppered

With milk-cartons, green colts

Two women dreamed they were

Carousels, mares entwined

Conjoined song rising from insomnia

And Lachesis’ scissors

Love is two obscurities

Devoured a sole match

And interrogated by the leafy tunnel of lies


My soul is a rollercoaster

Barefoot in oily portals to wards

Abstinent flesh infiltrated by sunray, stamen, sting

Unleavened phantoms lovemaking in the Ferris wheel

And the circles of arms, spinning oblivion into jars

Cutting hearts into rivers of song


Your eyes are but tormented manors

Aching rails,

Destiny breaking loose on jasmine, spindles, needles

I’m a thimble, a thorn, you are a star


Lust is a stereo sedating pinwheels

Seducing pines of drunkenness

Love is but an envious gramophone

Half comatose, ashen lips

She goes crazy without the amusement or climax

And hangs herself in the gallows of her tresses

With a pamphlet to Venus’s carillons


Transients of shadows in amorphous trains

Destined to some Wonderland

Neglect the world in sepia

And each child bloodied,

Throttled with coming of age

Ligatures of foreskins, tassels

Final gasp of a blood-clod

Kneeling, praising clemency

To the nun of cigarettes

And the 13th streetlamp, thistle-clad

Anonymous Severing


I. I would ensconce my eyes

And exist in padlocked souls


II. Her womb only bore shadows

She was a carousel in a sea of rollercoasters


III. Quartz moon coalescing

Into a crystal ball of shadowy séances


IV. Butterflies morph into syringes

Bullets undulating from clandestine graves of scythes


V. Everything is a miracle of despair; everything is burdened then emptied

Great River of hoarse bells giggling between irises and toenails


VI. Night lashes me with its sash of smoke

It girdles the arteries of a clotting hope


VII. My sister weeping as if the earth within a long slumber

Till then her roots ache, her heart of anchors in the dead ocean


VIII. Sing, dance and consume fleshy questions of the sand

Queen of pocket-watches, clockwork moon-throb


IX. My mother left for Rasputin in an overcoat of despair

Numbered, honeyed, Love will set her free from the Beautiful Beast


X. I existed in the book of brine, between indents and margins

Dying from the moon’s blood staining my graphite compass


XI. Because I dis-imagined you

Oblivion in graveyards, wombs, voices


XII. Because of abrupt storms of ivy on grade schools

Where a gramophone in a rose vinyl sounds


XIII. When your green eyes close into nuptial dreams

I wake into midnight alleys, memories reeling, penetrating abstinent skin


XIV. As you begin to dream

I rise in misery


XV. So aloof that reciprocity died on Sunday,

Anguish’s waves engulfed the world’s lighthouse and our hearts


XVI. My soul is a belfry assaulting virgin skies

And you my eyelids, shutters severing the sky of its fishy nets

Andromeda or Ophelia?

I long for her eyes,

Kindling of my unkempt existence

You rained wounded poppies

To last the eternity of a caress

But the moist nets of desire

Encapsulated my bony diadems

Padlocked souls, destined pallor,

Sleepy aroma of kisses that

Encircled shadowy trains asleep

In underpasses acquainted to my heart,

Undressing mirrors envying ashen windows,

Where death lurks as if a switchman

And oblivion in stubs of aged voyages


Let me imagine the earth

Before it germinated roots

With drowned swimmer arms

Us before we were entwined

Bliss before it bore you,

Daughter of hope,

Conductor of autumnal violas

Switchboard operator for spring’s wakeup call

Here I love you between

Abrupt bursts of ivy and fiery graveyards


Love is brawling lightning

Dissolving into a drop of transparent honey

Thorny stars unleashing insomnia’s fragrance

I and you converging into we,

Half bloody, half empty, half dead


Remember, Magdalene

The day consumed her in entirety

With its pincers of haste,

Numbered and ticketed her 227th

Names as if butterflies fleeing chrysalises of beds,

Once, errant pupae of condoms weaned on conscience

Death pacing in telephone coils, windowpanes, wombs

And birth in those same hushed objects


Acrobat of matches upon the

Chaotic trapeze as if a pendulum lurching toward

Balconies of sorrows and their dove overcoats

Tightropes of headstones and tresses

I, a scarecrow decommissioned by twilight

In the sea of sirens and cherubs,

Armrests subdued by limelight

Bosom of bullets, sheepish grin

In my palm Mary’s orange rind

Traversing a sky of inkwells, Christmas lights

Milk cartons, felt storks, Zyklon pendants


Tell me it’s blue and starry and nude:

Her voice and your womb

Tell me it’s grotesque outside

But deep inside it must be beautiful

Like a set of eyes or an octet of pawns

A dozen sextants or a vastness of elm

Or a solitary serendipity in brothels of needles

Or my sister filling another tulip

And perhaps our silhouettes in silkscreens

Among the vagueness of July 28

Potting the dollar store’s roses

In jars brimming with inaccessible crumbs

Of time on her platter along

With peace and war and oceans of cherries

And the fish of hope



Flour of Flowers

Flour of Flowers:

I. My soul grows weary in chrysalises

Unfurling into mother-of-pearl fronds

Of destiny’s bough,

Simple hand in nostalgia’s ravaged galaxy

Night’s brinks seducing the eyes: barefoot, nude, azure

Sand grains of every son, toenail of every daughter

Stinging nettles of every sister, eternity of bellowing mirrors


II. Taxis sedating a pothole-bruised artery

Peopled with crystal laughter

Procession of blood, thorny stars

Our miseries imploring storks

Memories mugging butterflies

The moon is a debutante

In the stoic world

Of unshod metals

Here, intoxicated poppies

Are rooted and weeping:

Without the florist’s

Morphine earthenware

Daydream inducing syringes

Abrupt dusts of honey


III. I dreamed we were anchors

Within the ganache sea,

Encircling in man-eating bows

Port of bitter youth, moist net of desires-

Thieving our shadowy fish of hope,

Ladyfinger fedoras, coils entwined in insomniac voltages

Foamy laughter dissipating within transient encounters


IV. Nascent comets evading the earth’s caffeinatedurn

And our widowed lies:

The spiders disentangled last Tuesday

From muddled infirmaries

Of ink, brine, wombs

River Besieging Nazareth:

I. My soul is an inkwell

Among shadowy proxies

Eternities of Skype calls

Coagulating on the unfurling

Book of brine with understudies

Of suicidal waves

A dove for each page-break

A bloodstain for each inquiry

Shivering in sandy bosoms


II. Your name in smoky syllables

The drunkard consumed for Passover

Atop the thorny Via Dolorosa

Jesters with the muddled laughter

Of a tree whose trunk encapsulated

An obituary of our love (and my crystal timepiece)

Within the golden chapel, Peddlers

Gorged on starry cornbread, crusty horizons


III. Our roots entwined the pew

Great anthems of light rising

From shady hymnals, which my sister ignited

Last Wednesday allied with Goring’s phantom


IV. We thieved matches

And ate poppies from the row of crosses.

Our arms coalesced into them after

Crows gagged the scarecrow-

A ligature of ant queens

Nuptial wombs of hushed foragers

Fleeing Rasputin’s honeyed globe

And a lone weaver on the looms of dawn

An undone love in a zipper of husks


V. Oblivion dressed like a seamstress

Impregnated with misery

Death that humiliated supervisor

When the weaver only jarred

Tulips with bruised panniers

Oily kisses; She was rootless

We existed in tubers of laughs

In each others’ hearts of cards

Vermillion king on snowy deathbed

Our love performing euthanasia

To become despair


VI. Toasts becoming dreamy butterflies

The world is a carousel

And stars those dingy mares

Wafting tune: spring’s wakeup call

To chisel marble effigies of clouds

And dissolve her green eyes

Into rivers of sprigs

With an isle of an admiral and a debutante

Infatuated beneath inky skies the comet-poet

Pondered about while in slumber

Juxtapositions of Abstractions:

Wind that pimps a butterfly

Toward abstinent windows

Taciturn bridges moored onto sunned skies

Here, Death loved you


Mother-of-pearl street-lamps

Among twilight’s transient foam-veins

Blue-eyed river of semen, mirrors

My brother enthralled with himself


Poppies reunited within syringes

Wombs of ashtrays, hearts of tiny cowbells

Emporiums vending syllables, prosthetics, breath

My daughter seduced by a mannequin


Train-wrecked heart

In a cool underpass of penuries

Souls dissolving into silhouettes atop sundials

My mother courting a phantom


Vivacious flower

Asleep in oblivion’s jar

Resurrected into shadowy honey

I loved an effigy

I smelled of jasmine, brine, you


In the vagueness the stars tinge the never-ending sky

The moon wakes and enables her waves

And you rest on a foam-laden cliff

In a diadem of inebriated stars


O lonely rose enacting tears,

Dreams draped in sad suits of light


The butterfly implacable on freedom

Perches on the naked trees of winter


Abyss filled with life, Silence with sound


The nameless wind razes lighthouses

The incessant sea paves forests of flowers with sand


Here, you bring forth the only infinite love

In the form of blue crystals and thistles

Flowerless, flightless, full of life