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Midwestern Roadmapsi.

wine-fed confessions
are what brought us together;
with a stir of paint chips and skin,
we made clumsy love on the concrete
of a condemned factory,
moving in the shadows of machinery
that loomed like winter trees
or judgmental Gods
who still stopped to smell the alcohol
in our pores.

ii.

"will you pass me a cigarette
and along with that sign your lust
on the paper that will gray in a flicker,
bitter acrid and addictive
like the first high of tobacco—
a euphoric quiver
that lasted only a minute,
gone when you inhaled your second
seeking the same."

iii.

indiana is the land of crossroads,
where the wind blows
to find a better des
Pen and Rasashe met an ink-stained boy
stories sunk in his skin
e-y-e-s above constantly
popped knuckles, an anchor
on his cheek, small thing weighed
heavy below his half-closed lids
loud is an angry dog barked                                [with I'll be gone as a collar along
over his heart                                                        tense rapscallion neck]
her illustrated man was strumming a guitar
in a quiet parking lot, she toured                     (with hands clasped behind her body
this living museum, his colorful past                               leaning forward)
she studied his graffiti-self from a distance  
Pestilenceall of God’s children sleep
together and count the falling sheep,
stars nestled in their eyes as they
prey upon the crumbling walls;
God loves all his children and I am
the orphan with an asphalt blanket;
clouds scorn me and I mourn
their wasted hatred

(my eyes, my broken plastic
looking glasses; my hands,
termite ridden and frost bitten;
my heart, worm holed and
seeking absolvance)

what’s there behind these echoed
words? divisions of another  from
a better time, I have begun to live
and lie with no consequence

because that little toxic feeling
floating in my chest likes to
poison everyone I’ve ever met,
and I&rsqu
rhythmic rain and words for dead treesthis funeral-black night begins with
piano notes soft as the rain soaking
leisurely into wood thirsty for the 
warm essence of     
                         heavy 
                              
            drifting 
clouds
               clack
        drip
click
evoke dead writers with
vintage typewriters, faded
ink stamping out new stories
from old wounds the way
the poets do, old poets with
new admirers
tonight, find
immortality resides 
in water
sliding down a fogged window
leaving behind a clear trail--
the way to see out 
into the natural world waiting. alive.
listen.
to the trees breathing
sweet wooden beings--  
they rattle rain-streaked glass 
with their  oxygen-laced wind.
you.
apatothe ocean air is selling
moist and salty caresses
there is a metaphor to take
in each skimming wave
but I am tired so I
so I will
will let it rest
my turning mind
with the tides
and breathe
with the gilled creatures
below the rhythmic surface
gulping gaping gas-gasping fish mouths
mine will open too and
open till wide enough
for the cry clenched in my
throat to caw-claw
its way out till I am
chorusing with the seagull
and if I fall
into the water now
it will envelop me
wrap its foam arms around
my corporeality 
touch its crest to my head
kiss me dead
I will be complacent
in its sea indoctrination 
this is how I will stay
above the darkness
infinite below me
AcquittalWon't you leave me?  I will love you
more than if you stay, transfixed

to the point of reference, our bodies
melding a sad, soft sublime, the back

spine of a little universe blown out
like a crafter's hot glass, the growing

moment, the wonder, the expansion
before a chill.  
Some clear tropisms for your frozen lines(a title-poem // see the comment) 

This sunfall in the stars is falling in love
with my mouth, a graveyard;
not what you wanted, sea father
look beyond –
the spectre on the watch
is breaking the frost,
onirique. *
 
Terminal matter
for a poet’s prayer:
 
it is not a dream if it is everyday.
Forged by Frantz, march 2013.
     
BeliefBelief

She tells him the child is not his.
The old women mutter and cluck
as they slap wet cloth against river stones.
He wraps his arms around his chest as though he fears
he will also sprout with child. "A dove,"
he quietly asks? She points to a blood spot
on her cheek. "He pecked me here." It still hurts
when she touches it. It always hurts.
He loves the child, the cuckold's hatchling. He loves his lying wife.
But he knows she lies. When the old men stumble
into the stable, beards matted, coarse as grain,
he simply mutters, "Drunks," bad wine, betrayal.
One afternoon as he saws cedar planks, sawdust thick as pollen,
an angel catches his
she got me warmvoice
vanilla cinnamon pine 
cares for me in 
snippets of audio
quiet conversation sounds
like the tap of keyboards at
odd times
stuttered scared to scarred minds
who was spotless, tangerine girl?
where's this eternal sunshine, rocking chair boy?
we're just squinting at all the
awkwardness; the graceful poets
don't know how to strut
their tongues so full of
sound and fury
but mouths so full of sincere sympathy
and I feel it; I feel a healing touch in your
vanilla cinnamon pine palette painting
embraces across my brokenness
 
and my gratitude is deeper than I can reach
to give you so far down your song has sunk
into my aching bones
organistI’ve tried too hard to bridge this gap:
the space between my fingers,
vague, insipid emptiness,
the quiet, profound longing
of an unturned page.

you come to me with all the languor,
all the midnight captivation
of a cup of over-brewed tea,
a corset laced too tight,
a strict and unassuming wish for death.

somewhere in the world, someone
is unaware of your language, your
beauty, your music’s
arcane flutter: but that place is not here
and that person is not me.

here, I play memories
like a poorly tuned violin:
splendid, fearless melodies,
my violent, untamed love for you
lost in a Frescobaldian fugue.
Storybook AddictionsI want you to love me as much as you do
the thorns in your side; seeds planted and
forgotten and bleeding cyclically.
when the swallowed night drowns and
drains darkness like a trickled lullaby, I want
to be the last thing in your dreams.

I want to be your mistake East of Eden, your lack
of redemption; when they tear apart your paper
flesh with metal claws, I want to be the one you
come crawling back to with bloodied knees.

[right now I am an empty vessel, unfulfilled
and metaphorically obsolete. I want to clear
my throat for once, without seeing the ashes
of my disease.]

I want to love you like a swansong;
breezes make your bones ach
lovesong for sailorboyRead aloud and explained (somewhat) here.
i have always loved words as you love the sea
but i have grown to hate 
prepositions
because i have always had words
about you
with you
to you--
but never for you.
words for everything 
     except you.
but i have words for this, so
i'll take them
     one by one.
about.
the ocean was your first love and
i could always see it in your eyes.
most would call them blue--just
blue 
like a swell over a sandbar
blue like the spring sky over a poppy field.
but i don't think anyone
got as close as i did and they're not blue
not shorebound and
safe--
they're gray like the steelbellied sea itself
like the horizon at dawn as it
encircles you
hems you into an impossibly vast canvas
like a demarcation line
or a promise.
     one you always chased.
with.
maybe i had a streak of ocea
RestlessI’ve been living in the same breathy dream
for too many days now; I’m bed-ridden and
stale and I reek of those moments that come
full throttle like a car crash on a winter night

     this is evolution where weak hearts
     are afraid of the shadows and where
     everything changes,
     an apologetic wind births no remorse;
     he will move on—anchored ship
     set sail, I am the sunken wreckage
     that never learned how to swim.
     he will move on, Darwin says
     I never had a chance

I wish I were the textbook sadness,
symptom and solution and endurance
but I’ve spent too long sleeping on the
WelcomeI'm ready for a romance to ravage my heart and tear apart my
dusty limbs, I'm waiting for someone to take my breath and
never give it back; I'm prepared to sell all I was for a trip
somewhere new - beyond the paper mistakes I sailed away
down the river long ago. (even rocks and leaden thoughts
won't let the truth sink.)

I left my being somewhere under a waning summer sun
when the trees hummed melodies of moving on;
my soul still stays there, porous and pining and
lost. Dying stars don't lead home.

I suppose
it's more than just losing
your words, it's losing
you

too.

I am someone who mourns Sunday morning for another lost
w
don't forget to let me go(the worst thing I’ve ever been
is an accident)

my words have no filter and I am
too many apologies bound
together by the stringent belief
tomorrow is worth more than today—

remember that summer when I was
beautiful? all covered in amber fog
and delivered like a dream. I was
a porcelain promise, a lavender
whisper, a breathtaking cancer,
and so many other precious things

I just want to go back to that
time where I was unmolded by
mistakes and words unsaid
(it was never you

I have spent too long trying
to drain out every tear from
the ocean, my love,

simple tasks are for the
weak of heart, it was
never you)

I am still be
Browse More Like This

More from *0hgravity

streamI believe it is best heard: https://soundcloud.com/gravitycorner/stream-1
---
let me be honest with you
I am small enough to fit into pockets and be forgotten
tangled up in the loose ends of jeans 
quieter than the twinkle of coins against keys
that
is how small I am
to every hand I've been in
and there are not many I let hold me
in this form because honestly
I said I would be honest
I am so much larger than pocket change
or I try to be
far away and expansive
somewhere where you 
can't
quite
reach
top shelf
one cereal box over
not hiding from your grasping grasp
I want you to
take me away and
spend me to fill you
up
but looking closely into my
naked eye--
window to my naked soul
is not a glance I offer
to many
(I think the ground is the only one to stare so deeply)
you see?
there
is my honesty laid out like
bread crumbs to the universe,
me, brimming with its nature
a nature in you too
but even with this, vastnes
cool breeze across sultry skinorange morning
riverside
in the wind 
reeds bend 
like backs
yours arches 
like a bridge
in my breath
and my two lips cross 
your soft skin connection 
to reach the end
the heartland
open and waiting for me
Impression Vhe wasn't afraid of the bottom of the lake
the fish are the size of whales down
there in the deep. hate is love
when you are buried in the murk.
these things he said to me
--we sitting, listening--
in a boat floating far above the 
world below.
the lake is full of sky: clouds, day
bright blueness and sun
to the one who sees
he said all this to me as I sat quietly next to her
"How long ago did your husband drown?"

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desire in minor key

:icon0hgravity:

if only i were strings on your guitar,
to be touched and teased
till tremendous tremolo echoed
in these hollowing bones

fretting for your affectionate fingers to thrum
percussion gently along this rough curvature
my unvarnished body, natural concavities
resonating the rhythm of your sweet phalangeal beats

the heat, in each of your lovely palms, washing over me -
bending me, until i sing into the void
an anthem only yours
give me a voice

pluck calloused, never callously,
the notes growing slowly outward
from this sonorous garden,
my musical soul
sighs a song for you

each note hung, neatly strung, and laced
through my being -
would you find them all for me?
could you release each one,
with the delicate strums from your easy hands?

arpeggiate me amorously
away into the evening
until my frame is fully known
and the very molecules in me hum

as those caressed in your guitar
gently balanced upon your knee
the strings of which you touch and tease
and strum the love
to me

164

8 43 0
:icon0hgravity:

desire in minor keyby *0hgravity

DescriptionDetailsShare
collab with the lovely *Hfeather53

my first poem collab! :dummy: thanks for takin' on a newbie Hfeather - hope you didn't have too horrid a time.

please give Hfeather's some love! [link]
©2013 *0hgravity
Category: Literature / Poetry / Romantic / General / Free Verse

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Submitted on
February 5
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:icongabichadi:
~GabiChadi 5 days ago  New member Hobbyist Writer
beautiful, in every way!
Reply
:icon0hgravity:
*0hgravity 4 days ago  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you very much!
Reply
:iconflummoxative:
~Flummoxative Feb 12, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
This is probably my favorite execution of this analogy in a poem ever. Lovely work, the two of you. :heart::heart: :clap:
Reply
:icon0hgravity:
*0hgravity Feb 12, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
oh wow ^^; thank you!
Reply
:iconthemoormaiden:
~TheMoorMaiden Feb 8, 2013  Student Writer
This is a gorgeous piece, well done to you both! :D

I love the lines:

my musical soul
sighs a song for you :heart:

This'd be a great piece to read aloud. :nod: While I was reading it I felt as though it had a real oral quality to it, if that makes sense. ^^;

Really great piece!
Reply
:icon0hgravity:
*0hgravity Feb 9, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you very much! :D

oh, maybe I'll get her to read it then :plotting:
it does :)
Reply
:iconthemoormaiden:
~TheMoorMaiden Feb 9, 2013  Student Writer
You're very welcome! :)
Reply
:iconthetaoofchaos:
`thetaoofchaos Feb 7, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
This is mesmerizing and delectable! Great collab.
Reply
:icon0hgravity:
*0hgravity Feb 9, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
ah, thank you! :D
Reply
:iconsammur-amat:
=Sammur-amat Feb 7, 2013   General Artist
Marvelous and cohesive collab, you two! Lovely job, my lovelies! :heart:
Reply
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