Elephant Graveyard

I couldn't see the curved ribs
Just the seaweed like the mire
Had come to rest upon your back
Without the wisps of fire

I couldn't see the water
But I heard the constant crash
Hidden from me by a heavy fog
Ivory and ash

I stepped across the cool sand
As far as I could see alone
But I sensed the hounds upon the scent
Digging for precious bone

The wild wind flipped my hair
A constant present one place before
Empty but for cracks under the sky
At the very heart of nevermore

I couldn't hear your voice
But I still felt your cries
They pierced through my clothes
And welled up in my eyes

I couldn't find your face
The flotsam blocked my view
And every one of those still bodies
Reminded me of you

I came upon each giant
Revealed with each cautious step
A haunting silhouette I had to accept
And approach with no misstep

I woke up in this room
With the sunlight pouring in
But I shut my eyes and tried to return
And replace my twin

Blackbird Memory Letters 2

We were silhouettes. You can still see us walking across the porch in summer. Our shadows weaving in and out of each other. You just have to know how to look. Dancing like broken hearts, valves flying wildly, blood rushing up in fountains, flecked across your face. Red hearts. Red blankets. Red winters. Red violins. I understood why he did it. I understood the amount of passion and amount of crazy it took to dip that paintbrush in and drag it across the naked wood. I understood the amount of sorrow needed to create such a beautiful sound. We are just water in the end. The water mixes with paint. Among other things. I hear voices at night sometimes. And I don't want to answer. They're looking for me but I want to remain hidden. Cut all ties. Break all bricks. Crumble like the cookies you left in the oven for too long when you were looking for me and I was buried in some corner crying. I fall. And keep falling. And never stop. And yet I'm not flying. Sometimes it's just gray mist we've got for company. Your mind can race all it wants but it never goes anywhere. Just holds you in this cloud. White fog and silence. But you can feel the sun somewhere. Off in a different world.
The record stopped and I realized it had never been there to begin with. It was only ever what I wanted it to be but I never saw it. Just the old dusty player. Waiting expectantly. The notes were just memories. Sometimes memories can be more alive than the flesh and blood around you. That's what I like to believe. But it still doesn't get me out of here. Stop trying so hard. Graves and Graduations are patient enough.

Fugitive

Wake up to the moon upon my back
Run off into the shadows
Don't look back

Wave to the vacant country road
Sing to its last departure
A quiet ode

Rest when the legs finally give out
Forget their wanderings
All about

The Degradation of Great Minds

Ravenous for crossword puzzles
I want to eat them like flies
Webbed in a spider’s lines

The world was quiet up until then
Then we woke up

The silent snicker collapsed in guzzles
I saw it begging desperately for air
Instead I turned away from there

It was a knock, bang, pounding, and then
Then it just stopped

Gently knotting the cord around their muzzles
Beat by beat we walked together
Step by step we lost forever

Talk and laugh and eat and talk and then
Then they found the body

Seirenes

Raisins fell out of her throat
I caught them in the aftershock
And while we were still remembering
The twilight stole them away

I used to walk on dark beaches
My feet would sink in deep
And I wouldn't feel so transparent

Someone once shot the old goat
All mildew and iron locks
She left the ground for trembling
Clicked like the sail's mainstay

Violent winds used to stir up the leaches
I could hear them in my sleep
Their scratchings were so apparent

My giver wore a seed covered coat
In tangles as bloodstreams in stocks
Blue diamonds relieved fervent lumbering
Tied at the mouth of the bay

Oak beams collapsed upon her beseeches
Woke up that night to the counselor's weep
We gave up the case too acquiescent

Indifference

I’m remembering indifference. It’s almost better than nothing. Than empty space. But it isn’t. It’s a woman sitting on a park bench, legs crossed, arms folded on her lap, staring blankly when an ambulance is screeching behind her and everyone- the guy beside her, the squirrel on the path, the ducks even- is telling her to look, to pay attention. She just sits there and you want to shake her, you want to force her head to turn, press it until it cannot resist any longer. But you don’t.
You can’t blame her. You can’t even bring yourself to look at her objectively anymore. Because she’s just a reflection and no matter how many stones you throw she’ll always creep back into focus, starring into emptiness. Even when she knows there’s something there. She just doesn’t care. I want to paint her. Not because she’s a rarity. Not because the light is just right. But because she’s so honest. She wants oblivion. She knows what’s there but she wants to forget. It’s how we all feel. She’s just got the guts to admit it, to live it. It takes a lot of courage to forget. A lot of hatred and a lot of pain, but a lot of courage to say ‘I’m done, no more. You can never reach me now.'
I want to paint those soft lines of her hair, the little wisps that escape around her pale face. That hardness in her eyes. That stillness in her form when all around her is light, summery movement. She’s an icicle out of place. I’d paint her shadows blue, light her eyes with cyanide. I’d ghost her in like a stranger. Mix the ochre with a hint of dead leaves and dirty grass. Paste on her clothing as if it were stolen from someone else and forced on her so she would form the necessary image. I’d make the sky the brightest blue and shine the sirens in until they blind the viewer while she remains one lump of silhouette, unmoved by her surroundings. I would call it ‘Indifference’ and nothing else would need to be said.