Sub Rosa

Sub Rosa Nov 2013

You're the ink-stains
between my fingers.

Sub Rosa Nov 2013

Can
     I sleep beneath the willows in the garden
     In the shade of weeping eaves
You
     Planted deep in soft mulch
     above the hallowed canary grave?
Breathe
     Out  the eerie recollections of
     a marrow chilling orchestra
In
     the confines of
     the white wicker cage.
Song
     I cannot hear
     but I taste in the sap of the willow
As
     it sobs softly
on my heavy shoulders.
You
    spread a quilt out on the grass
    and whispered to the weeping branches
"Do
     you hear the canary  choir
     ringing through your roots?"
Oxygen
    expired from my lungs
    and I wailed a yellow-bird song.

Sub Rosa Nov 2013

Ontology

Adorned in flowers, you will look to the sky.
Garnished with clovers, your body will sigh.
A breath to the aspens lining your road,
shading your skin in the sun of the grove.
Come down silver hands from the aerial realm
and you recall the words of the old St. Anselm.
For he argued that 'Being is greater than not being'
And you are no longer frighted by the hell
you are seeing.

Sub Rosa Nov 2013

O'Mama **** the Demon Who Tucks Me In At Night

'Oh darling,
Come here and I'll make it better.'
And so you swam through the tides of trouble
To meet arms like a sunny horizon
Where you believed you were saved.
and his kiss on the cheek was too near
To baby lips.
But safety blinded your baby eyes
Oh, sweet child
Don't blame your velvet fingers
For their stillness
Nor those arms that could not
persuade the determined ones.
And your muffled sobs
Were loud and deep
As your soul would sing
That night.
Sweet baby,
the numbers are not at fault
For they do as numbers do
And grow your hair,
Wrinkle your eyes
And stretch your legs to the sky.
It is not the numbers who caused the affair,
'84 and '04
should have no relationship but DNA.
But the filth of evil
Perserveres
even beneath love and
A sweet baby's shield
You may sleep, dear child
Fear no longer waits in the darkness
In your room
After baby coo's
Goodnight.
For fear rests in a cement hell
Where he will face the fists
You know too well
And this lovely
Damaged
Baby,
Will heal.

Sub Rosa Nov 2013

Lost

And what an awful feeling it is
to be homesick
In your own home.

Sub Rosa Nov 2013

Disintegration

We rust and crumble
inside our
skin.
Passions and fires,
concealed
within.
Our bodies grow older,
Our hearts grow colder,
Whipped by a world
of scorn
and sin.

old poem,
I felt like reviving it.

Sub Rosa Nov 2013

Before I wake again.

Hurry,
Fall in love with me
while my eyes are sealed in dreams,
my defenses shackled in sheets
I have thrashed to the floor.
Fall in love with me
in my fraility,
while my bones are weak
from rattling,
before I shove your
ship from the shore
and scurry to the mountain tops,
shadowed by lingering
'almost's.
I sing no more.