I slept in a
dead woman’s bed
And there was the one night he almost cried for the hole in the universe, his heart, any understanding of either. Random music colored the air as he danced around the room, each lyric from lives past by turn a love song or a dirge. He sang along when the tears came closest, or perhaps the other way around. In either case, the wall between joy and sorrow was, at its strongest, the thinnest of ancient, half-dust swaddling, prepared to be pierced at any moment.
He’s left you here, my dear my dear, tell me why you wait
He’s left you here, with no one near, and the hour is growing late.
Your heart, poor dear, bares a sadness so heavy and so slow
You will not feel its end until to the Summer Fields you go.
The raven to the square is flying,
And your love he is a-sighing.
The raven to the square is flying,
And my dear my dear we’re all a-dying.
The sun moves ‘round, sister moon behind, and stars bright and dim
They whisper, dear, to see you here, and pretend they know your sin.
But here you are, waiting at the door, knowing he’ll return.
No one sees and no one hears the question that in your chest burns.
The raven to the square is flying,
And your love he is a-sighing.
The raven to the square is flying,
And my dear my dear we’re all a-dying.
The candle’s out, the shutters closed, the locks all strong and barred,
You hope he sees the path to you in tears and blood you’ve carved.
He’s left you here, my dear my dear, and here you shall remain,
Because he’s coming soon and you only hope he remembers your name.
try our new beard oil
made of Bay fog,
beet sperm, blood orange,
orange blood, the three eyes
of mutant raven, twitch-thumbed
Instagram followers—
work it into your pubis,
one finger at a time (curled),
one strand, one glib strand,
ladies love your curt breaths,
Neanderthal grunts
in place of open boxes
so lock yourself
like father’s liquor cabinet,
hide your scent behind tobacco,
rosewater and cunnilingus.
try our new facial mask:
Dead Sea scrolls mashed to pulp,
big words uttered by vixens,
sparrow feathers, snail trails,
your mother’s lipstick,
oil slicks on racetracks—
those bags under your eyes,
fill them with hoarded forks
that fill your drawers,
then coat your whole head
like yogurt nuts,
be proactive, probiotic,
your proboscis needs a trim,
the guilt your mother gave you,
take guillotine to it,
then peel off, find newness,
a bright, chemical face.
try our new body balm,
made of a rapeseed, repression,
leftover lasagna, Mondays,
hands of strangers,
yellow lamplight, blue tanlight,
chicken skin on sidewalks—
grease yourself slipshod,
elusive as dodo, as dildo,
as the lessons of holy books,
as the bedrooms of bankers,
rub yourself, the kooks & cronies,
caulk filling your cracks,
blobfish, bottomfeeder,
blubber dripping from chin,
meat juice dripping from rolls,
whipped mashed potato vague,
until you’re O-faced oval,
orangutan lewd,
narcissist nimble.
I was paralyzed for an eternity
It’s hard work, being willfully clever
The unseen figures from the waterfall’s peak
Demanding to know life’s meaning
Hurtled rocks in the meantime
Just on the other side of the gently cascading curtain of water
But looking at your serene face
Was all I needed
In a moment my mind was free
…as a bird
What bird?
A swan
Swans!
Instantly the lullaby melody soundtracks my bliss
I never felt myself so graceful
I scream it back at the boulder-chucking assholes
Your laugh, rich and shuddering
Not to be given away easily
Is quite the reward
The bold win big
Or they lose hard
They might fall far
‘Cause they drop their guard.
The bold break free
Or they stay under
But one thing’s for sure
They never wonder.
The bold curse devils
Or they praise gods
Always building life
With iron rods.
The bold find joy
Win or lose
Because they are always
The one to choose.
