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Shooting the MoonChrist (- but believe me, there's no lord above: we're as high as anyone goes)

he's still got mama
rockin' him in his chariot and
carrying him across the sky,
her flushed like a bright new bride,
ruddy-skinned,
and he's still positively glowing,
all smooth-skinned transparency

(we're not allowed to tell anyone that he hides
half his face in the dark, afraid
that people will see how pock-marked
those freckles really make him look).

but someone oughta tell him that his button-nose
ain't so button any-more -
people draw it look a hook
(and damn, you should've heard the rumours
about him and the Sandman when
he was younger; man, mama didn't ca
north pacificAudio version thisaway.
icewater and tumblestone beaches, and i wonder, clifftop,
if the fog tastes like forest.
the ocean carves its histories
in the driftwood--creation stories and 
lullabyes worn smooth,
bleached to a polish.
it might be sand shifting but maybe--
maybe i can feel the whalesong,
low and deep 
thrumming in the hollow spaces of my bones.
i envy the seabirds
who have more room to feel.
Carving ConstellationsDoctors carve out constellations,
stitch star maps into my skin,
a web of scars, a path to take
to find myself again.


My scars are sewn of haunted stars,
constellations but half-drawn;
ghosts of star-fire whispering words
that fade out with the dawn.
They took my rib from me,
ground it up, reformed it,
turned it into Eve;
made a girl with my own name:
a girl they say is me.
My fragile face now hers,
our spirit splintered,
she stands for nothing
I once stood for.
Deep scars fade
before their meanings are deciphered;
yet more maps unfold
I am the wayward childI wish I had something more to offer
when your joints ached and your bones creaked
and you wept dust; (the cobwebs around
your tongue were a comfort once)

but I am three times screwed
over backwards and turned right around,
breathing in gravel and praying on
the only consistencies I know like
on Sun-day we are in the house of God
and it won’t rain and dad won’t speak
and mom will sit with pursed lips counting
all the times we didn’t kiss her goodbye
and everyone will call it normal,

everyone will look at the way I write words
on cracked pavement and get glassy-eyed
when they speak softly and forget the sound
of my own vo
Progressionshe fell to the earth in a stream of shrapnel
and stardust in holy proportions; born
of silence and unfulfillment, tumulting
through that narrow area between
expectations and reality where
the pink glaze marred her romantic,

(blurry: a photograph held by careless hands;
a memory outdated and forgotten
and beautiful, once, before
the future fell in pace)

she landed with a deafening crack--
ribcage split and spilling secrets,
gasping for air beneath the surface of a pond
so stagnant that even the lilies withered away:
bubbles rose slowly (she began the process
of forgetting to breathe)

and she was not made for
our atmosphere; the air po
Vishnui. (matsya - fish)
in the beginning, there was silver;
mercury inscribing cuneiform
beneath the bloodwork of your skewed scales,
scrawling preserver
throughout salt-drenched lungs.

and you laced clear planets into your slipstream,
wrapped solar systems in translucence.
ignoring all the shattered galaxies. ignoring
how easily their frail orbits
broke.

ii. (kurma - turtle)
your ribcage screamed a shattered warcry
of not-quite-god and less-than-human;
a shark's-tooth carapace crushed in.  

forgotten names clawed out your sternum.
your spine fused into your biting back.

iii. (varaha - boar)
razor-wireless shrieked of true ta
Quiet Things.I’ve got this love carved into my wrists,
Full moons and midnight confessions
Bite deeper than my bones.
They wrap you around my empty hands like unwritten poetry,
Pages of stardust and dreaming skin.
this is about forgettingThis is the thing about forgetting:
                For weeks you bury your face in the clothes you wore when he was near and the smell is a comfort and a torture.  You decide that the torture is not worth the comfort so you leave them draped across the back of a chair and place things on top of them to stop yourself until one day you shove your hands through the pile until your fingers wrap around the fabric and you yank it free only to realize it was pointless.  Even his ghost is gone.
                The next thing that leaves is the way his voice looked in the dark.  Those few sentences become blurred and rough around the edges.  What you remember drops in your stomach in a different way. 
                You run your fingers over your
Holiday TableauCrushed tinsel, sunken
spirits littering
the melancholy
atmosphere of the
holiday after-
glow - It does not shine.

Torn garland, empty
bottles strewn across
abandoned party
rooms, reminiscent
of the previous
night's festivities.

Colorful wrappings,
packaging tape, bags
stuffed with boxes and
tissue paper - trash.
Re-gifted rejects
left behind, thoughtless.

Filled coffee cups the
morning after - warmth
to replace fading
cheer. Resolutions
revised, for the fast
approaching new year.
The Ballad of the Glass Buildings1.

I feel the familiar pulse
the beat of the drumhead
and the appeal of metal
against glass constructed to govern;
early morning fog by the river
rises like the expectations
like the sun behind the white towers

This place has mechanics
a steady beat of a heart and a
pulse like no other
it breathers vapor

I have come here to be in motion
to excel and exceed
to burn like lithium
and to fall faster than the speed of sound
I have come here to reverberate and ignite
I have come here to redeem
I have come to the wake
I have come to transform

2.

There is something in this place and this moment
there is love that is rising
and movement that mu
Sestina: Paean's SonsThe hearts of hills speak often in a hush--
Whisper they of love now lost, now carrion.
Without fear, uneffaced, these hills, sans dissemblance,
Raising mouthless voices in greater laud,
Dance now into languor. Thus imbued,
The lightest tintinnabulation raised a paean.

Once the Sons of Adam sang a paean,
Standing in the winter cold and hush;
Leaves no longer scattered, wind frostily imbued.
Trees' unhealthy branches: bones and carrion
Lifted to the skies. Adam's laud
Endless, cold, in frosty air, such dissemblance.

Do not let the bite of frost impinge thee: shun dissemblance
Pointed, falling out of sorts to dirge, from paean.
St
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5. Emptiness of SpaceIf you, who are the emptiness of space
Fill all that is and was and will yet be,
And to beholders have a nameless face,
And see the future as a memory,
Why then do you watch sparrows' darting flight,
Or give a name to roses and to stars?
It seems one such as you, who fills the night
Would need no lowly souls, yet here we are.
You know the name of all my moods and fears
And all the inner longings of my heart.
You know the number of my hairs and years
And give thought for the whole and all the parts.
Such staggering minutiae fill your hand,
While galaxies are all yours to command.
4. AlouetteAlouette, behold: common denizens of Earth
Follow ghouls heartily into jealous, keening love.
My nebulous old pantomime quickly returns,
So trite, unlike vous, for whom it exhausts oracles.
3. You Are My NightI will not act as though you are not there
Though I can see you not from where I stand.
At night upon my bed you fill my mind;
You burn before me, ever captive, bare
Before the eyes of those with you in hand.
Remain now with me: I left you behind.
And I in my self-righteousness, undone
Cease not to wish my efforts were enough.
Come back to me, be whole and new again
With eyes as bright as mornings we'd begun.
Now finish, my beloved.
2. Tis Fruit as Sweet as LoveTis fruit as sweet as love
For which I gave my all.
It carries not a scent
Intended to enthrall.
It teases tongues like so,
Disintegrates to dust,
And aptly lends its name
To strong- and wanderlust.
Taste the fruit of freedom
So fleeting in its core,
So much beyond my reach.
Twas much that I forbore.
Regret has no firm grip
But rather, waits inside
Sipping coffee black
Contended to abide.
But no, I tasted fruit
Which few have known like this.
I carry with me life
In frosted daylight's kiss.
I tasted sweet surrender
In arms which gave me peace,
And orchards full of life
With unhindered increase.
1. Night RondeletBreathing the night
A hope dark like words I've not said--
Breathing the night,
The stars speak of wrong and of right.
They know not the future I dread
Nor how I have given and bled,
Breathing the night.

Taken in hand
We come to agree before dawn,
Taken in hand.
And more than what I understand--
A look of what grace we've foregone.
This night has now bade me move on,
Taken in hand.

All of it dies,
Like the night as the light breaks through.
All of it dies,
And we are aware as it flies.
The night air lent mercy to you
And yours is the beauty I knew;
All of it dies.
The King is AliveIt is no simple act of grace
Which tears in two a temple veil
And stares the darkness in its face
And causes strength of men to fail.
For this is love: behold with fear
And joy and peace, all welcome here,
For this is love,
For this is love
Alive and drawing lost ones near.

Death has reigned on barren earth.
His kingdom conquers souls and hearts
Groaning for a Savior's birth.
Come conquerer, thy kingdom start!
This is the hope of all men's souls,
These marks of death are shattered; look!
This is our hope,
This is our hope,
And death must give back what he took.

It is the risen Son, once dead
Who holds the keys of death and time,
Alive fore

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February 4
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I Have Loved the Stars Too Fondly

:iconlabruyere:

These vast expanses broader than the skies
And deeper than the ocean, just as blue
Are unobtainable from where the view
Is struck by light and hidden from my eyes.
Oh marvels of the farthest-reaching space,
Oh nebulae, oh planets, ancient stars,
Already naked eyes have fought such wars
To glimpse beyond the darkness to your face.
And light which grows with centuries has bled
Still higher in the night and drowned you out.
My city home has left my eyes in doubt
That worlds of breathless beauty I have read
Exist, nor are they found where'er I look:
All space confined in pages of a book.
:iconlabruyere:
A Bowlesian (Or Australian) sonnet for Crowns of Sonnets' February Sonnet Challenge: [link]

If I cannot see the stars and constellations in their bright glory, I wish I could at least see stars at all.

Title from a poem by Sarah Williams, though the quote is often wrongly attributed to Galileo: "Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;/I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."
(Some copies have read, "I have loved the stars too truly," but I don't know which is correct.)
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:iconimaginative-lioness:
*imaginative-lioness May 9, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
These vast expanses broader than the skies
And deeper than the ocean, just as blue"

That opening is simply amazing, so beautifully written. I honestly cannot find things to fault, it is breathtaking and the words you have used are mouthwatering :heart:
Reply
:iconlabruyere:
*LaBruyere May 9, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you so much!
Reply
:iconjagrier:
~jagrier Mar 15, 2013  Professional Writer
Featured in a post entitled "Poetry + Art: Speculative." [link]
Reply
:iconlabruyere:
*LaBruyere Mar 15, 2013  Student Writer
Cool! Thanks!
Reply
:iconaldwarke:
*aldwarke Feb 25, 2013
I knew this was going to be good even from the title. Lovely scansion and metre. It deserves (and will get from me) further study. I can tell it will reveal more.
Reply
:iconlabruyere:
*LaBruyere Feb 25, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you very much for reading and commenting!
Reply
:iconkreepingspawn:
=KreepingSpawn Feb 24, 2013  Professional Digital Artist
Complex and fascinating as the subject it addresses. ;)
Reply
:iconlabruyere:
*LaBruyere Feb 24, 2013  Student Writer
Thank you! Wow, it was my intention. Glad it worked! :)
Reply
:icondrippingwords:
=DrippingWords Feb 24, 2013  Student Writer
Hello! :wave:

I have used the wonderful title of your piece in poem for The Title Poem project!

[link]
Reply
:iconlabruyere:
*LaBruyere Feb 24, 2013  Student Writer
Cool project! Glad it worked well for you. :)
Reply
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