an affair with ghosts

7/30/2019 an affair with ghosts

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an experiment in format



sext:

i split my chest open.

you reach inside and plant seed

in spring, my ribcage bursts

with blossoms to remind me of you



sext:

i let violets

break

through my sternum.

you pick one

and

let the petals

fall.

this is love.



you are the sole survivor

of horrid traumas.

i am the manifestationof your guilt.

you tear my eyes out.

you see for the first time.



sext:

i am survivor’s guilt

metastasising

to your moral marrow.

you are the apple

in every

child’s eye

slowly rotting.



sext:

you are the sound of a hammer

being cocked on a 1967 colt .45.

i am the last fleetingthoughts

of a condemned man.



minute coronae dot your eyes

as you take your final breath.

i breathe glass stars for you

to break into the night air,

one

by

one.



sext:



sext:

i am the lonesome night.

you are the breath

on the window

of the last ride home

in the coldness

of another rain.



saturn ascends her wrist.

jupiter hangs upon her brow.

the moon swims in her hair.

(venus in her veins.)



sext:

we are existence’s expatriates,



sext:

you are film tearing from reels

leaving beautiful scars upon

the screen. i am only the splice

upon your scenes, pale and

melting into your lunate

seams.



sext

we are composed of

ightmaric filmstrips

neurotic bal

of iden

reverberationsin the romanticism

of the unidentifiable



impermanenceis the copula

between us.



sext:

your lips

are chernobyl petals

and our love

is the tunguska event.



there is an oasis

in your absence

that i drownmyself in

nightly.



Sext:

I am a prisoner,

circa Majdanek

September 1942.

You are the last

breath of Zyklon B

to grace my

weakened lungs.

This is love.



sext:

we kiss.

lavender takes root in your oesophagus.

in autumn,

your words come

wilted and bruised.

this is love.



sext:

i was twenty-three

you were the beltaround my arm

this was love

(and i can

still feel it

screaming

in my veins.)



sext

may blue valentines

always be within your reach

on your happy days



cut me up

like your favourite

poems

and make me into

something beautiful.



sext:

(the xenharmonics of existentia.)



sext:

i will trace your veins

and follow the maps they make

until i can find your dreams

brilliant shards

upon the event horizon.



sext:

all the synonyms for perfection

pale in comparisonto your imperfect smile



this book

like all others

is dedicatedto junia

an affair with ghosts

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