Jack Parsons

Beyond it, moving through the cosmos unbounded,
Test it with a few vinegar phrases, but those wounds have been healed now for ages,
what’s your motive anyhow? we’re just strangers with a familiar sense of each other’s coding,
How much progress occurs by way of quiet judgement?
Fuck it. We’re all hypocrites, but try to feel it,
Can’t relate? Well that’s alright,
just sit steady while the angel launches.

I can’t color inside the lines

Sprawled out on a mountainside, shrouded in leaves and half-severed vines, I confess to be a wild thing, but you do not hear me.

Spill my blood to write fresh poems that defy rhyme and meter, each word alive, dripping with fervor, but you never read me.

Shouting/marching/fighting for compassion ’til my throat is dry, legs are weak, mind grows fatigued, yet you fail to see me.

In the soft glow of the afternoon, I sing a sad refrain, but the meaning is lost while the melody remains, so you do not feel me.

Still onward I careen, hopes unfettered, dreams undisturbed, for I learned long ago not to bury my soul in any single place or person.

And For My Next Trick …Happiness

Sad songs soothe me, whether summer days spent soaking in the sun, or winters shut up indoors enveloped in a good book, warm blankets, hot tea,
My soul only knows despair with short intervals of joy.
Madness, maybe,
But you can recharge my battery in the woods, the forest floor my corridor to some unexplained source of vitality.
That or let me breathe in salty ocean air,
Drown my old self in the cold, dark, blue of the Pacific,
Rise from the waves anew.
Born again and again in and out of your arms, watch me take off
like Apollo 11.

Balancing the day and the night, the light and the darkness, emotion and might.

Couronne Moi

Days swell into nights,

We toil away cloaked in civility.

No respite from this hunger,

Soaks into my skin like the last days of summer.

Coiffed and poised for a total takeover,

Obstacles, slowly but surely devoured.

Power in my sights,

Read my eyes.

Hephaestion

Downtown sparkled
while the perseids kissed the night sky

Mars blazed
but summer heat gave way to cool breeze

Just dirt and a picnic blanket
yet it felt like the very definition of magic

Almost five years now
and still under your spell

Quiet

bathing in the silence
solitude from room to room
he’s naked and reclining, like a Toulouse-Lautrec
lips bitten raw, skin clawed
recounting the origins of old scars
places gone
time lost
soaking in a glass of Malbec
soaking up the emptiness

wade through the emptiness with me, into the dark, absent of thought

nous verrons ce qu’il y a de l’autre côté

Thirst

smoke-filled lungs sigh heavy
anticipation sewn through
soft flesh
into tendon
knicking at bone
bound and restrained yet
torrents of
desire
tenderness
love
pour out sideways
washing over every nerve
every road
lapping up all dread
all passion
power exuding from every second of surrender
ecstacy in its acceptance
“it is always by way of pain
that one arrives at pleasure”

guilt rises, subsides
a dark curiousity gnaws away at your insides

ç’est trop tard se retourner