this is my poetry blog

летен дождец

*
капка се сребри на дното од пустина-дланка. 
мала рајска оаза засолнета во оросен преграб 
во неа очајот се сторил бесконечност - и како конец
се истенчил, од нож сечило сјајно;
блескаат во неа реки бесни како молњи црвени
крвта како порој пролетен оваа почва ја плоди,
грутка - како лулка - во пурпур завиена;
а во неа животот раширил прсти,
како плен ја зграбил и загризал, голтка чиста вселена
рака од земја кон сводот покажува;
на сводот превртен пци беснеат во слепо оро
капката се бранува под нивниот громогласен чекор

*
капка се сребри на врвот од ножот со дрвена рачка
под неговото сечило јаболкото се двои како срамежлив цвет
отвора сочно месо кисело, како шумлив сон на јазик
во секоја семка лежи мала рајска оаза на свет кој допрва ќе расте
од мојата рака во секоја од вашите патува полумесечинка
која, штом загризана, има вкус на надеж;
оставена да ферментира на дното на огледална кутија
а околу неа времетo лачи тенка пајажина,
свилен конец - ковчег кревок - гревот положен нежно
во сржта на светот срце полно пердуви како восок капе
ангели покрстени в кабает гнијат на дното на барите катран
капката ја пијат од моите усни.

Жар под прсти тлее, 

мраз венее во коскен сад

претекува, врие

Срце - стопен камен, 

низ тесно грло еруптира

Блескав ирис-близнак во мокро синило суспендиран

просипа грам по грам чинки опојни

Еден прамен чад две алвеоли милува. 

Треперат и капат тектонски кожи

како крв шиктат подземни води 

Во нив цвет златен низ пареа се огледува. 

Сребро в небо сјае

свет на тивок оган се крчка

се растопува, трае

self-fulfilling prophecies

I.
in the beginning there was nothing.

II.
gas and mass bounding and leaping, clashing
writhing pits of rock and fire coalescing, beating, burning bright
the myth of creation unfolds on the biggest screen, curtains open
on a world bright and blue and beautiful; bustling with life unseen
as below - so above. the architects of heaven toil under His light.

III.
God gazes in the mirror destitute and barefooted.
God gazes in the mirror and hates Her soft animal body,
God gazes in the mirror and hates Their ineffable failure.
in the mirror a tangle of teeth and claws looks back, gasps for air.
a choir of angels performs a Caesarian with a reflective shard.

IV.
a thick fog of poison collects in the sparkling valleys
crops grow ashen and calves are plated in gold on the assembly line
Her words chopped up and laid out on ransom notes,
the same reflection in the glint of the blade that stabs the heart that houses the relic,
the lambs stray like lemmings following their instinct to the pits

V.
God gazes in the mirror raped and brokenhearted.
God gazes in the mirror and hates His bleeding calloused hands,
God gazes in the mirror and hates Their executive dysfunction.
in the mirror a crowd of grasping hands reaches back, gasps for air.
a choir of angels decides the fate of the world on a roundtable.

VI.
atoms bounce and break like toys in the hands of reckless schoolchildren
the blind lead the blind into traffic, fulfilling their resentful prophecy
kissing exhaust pipes and doing keg stands off barrels of oil,
siphoning the bone marrow of the earth and packaging it in plastic
Their bones resting nestled deep beneath the undissolving ruins.

VII.
in the end they left nothing.

i.
fog thickens to droplets, tears revealing
a finger tracing the outline of a body, shifting and shimmering on the glass
reflections expanding into and out of each other, til bloody fists do us part
i reach for you and find my own cold hand. i reach for me and find nothing
a blank checkbox, a dotted line

ii.
no divinity greater than a quiet empty sky
holy fools preaching to each other through their own tails in their mouth
molted skin-lined streets, dagger-glint eyes, blood spills in the name of a god who never speaks back
i reach for sainthood and find a martyr. i reach for martyrdom and find collapse
a futile prayer, a victory march

iii.
poles of lust and loathing
a lone planet drifting in perpetual orbit, carving perfect circles in the night
obsessions in a balancing act, axis of double edged swords
i reach for the fire and find the sky. i reach for the water and find a
pulse
a rhythm, a rhyme

iv.
the sphere has no time to consider itself
she just spins and spins and spins and spins and spins and spins and spins and spins and spins and spins

јаглеродна супернова

 ние сме мелодична какофонија, дисонантна хармонија од тела
кои во триење искрат како атомите при создавањето на универзумот
играме опиени од звуците на сопствените лудачки мисли,
на крвта која ни клокоти како жива под кожите
галопираме во место и одекнуваме низ соседните светови
како бешика пред експлодирање трепериме во ниските вибрации,
диво ги нишаме кадриците под дождот
кој отпукнува околу нашите несопирливи нозе,
воздухот силно го исфрламе од алвеолите
бркајќи проѕирни привиденија на неподносливи чувства,
се тегнеме мрзливо во забавена снимка преку дамките
на мувлосаните теписи, едни кон други, со прстите подадени,
барајќи го туѓиот оган
се губиме и наоѓаме во опивната магла, пречекорувајќи илјадници прагови
се губиме и наоѓаме во недоразбирања, во дислексично прочитани усни
во нацрвени усни, во усни исфлекани отровни, во срамни усни –
ги чувствувам ѕвездите како ми крцкаат под стапалата,
влечејќи ме себе низ нив.
ги чувствувам сите раце во темнината како да се мои.
секој лик во оваа соба е огледало.
кога тишината настапува, сите делиме еден здив, мек и тежок,
како волнено ќебе, префрлено нежно врз хаосот со човечко лице.

spiral out

i sustain my heart like an anthill rebuilds after devastating rains,
each part of me a hundred times stronger than itself.
burrow deeper when disaster strikes; ensure your own survival –
a puddle the size of oceans is nothing
when you are many working as one. 

the colony survives. i let every wave carry me away
until i am tired of floating, and each time i find my way back to shore.
nothing is ever lost, and every rose-tinted peach-streaked horizon that hurts your soul
has an ending, with solid ground to stand on,
and the sand piles always reach their crumbling heads to the sky once more. 

each edifice the architect of its own downfall,
each body hurtling senselessly to its own decay.
we break, and rot, and rebuild to protect.
i fall again, i rise again, i play along with the siren call of death,
i seek the nightmares that drown me in saltwater, swirling in the depths,
i hug marble floors and porcelain bowls and hearts
carved out of the blackest stones, i chase
honey-throated thrills and smoking burning hills
and each time i snap back like a rubber band;
speeding, breaking, curling in on myself.
and each time what’s broken is birthed again
out of trampled carcass-black ashes. 

the colony confidently orchestrates a rain dance
with no center, no end, just exoskeleton limbs tapping out into eternity,
and we make our own hurricanes of pain to twirl within.
the circle spins. i make my own misery to revel in.
a parade of tears down every street, restructuring my heartbeat
until it bleeds, breaks out, burns down, caves in. 

comes
u n s t u c k. 

and then i live. and then i build. and then i float.
and then i rise. rise again taller, rise again better
carrying forever my own weight, composed of many
spinning inward, pushing through, always moving, always circling,
upwards is the only way out.

once more. with less feeling

in the end you’re just another unfinished mixtape.
another pull on my heartstrings when i take a wrong turn
down an empty side street,
a cum stain on my favourite dress, ripped tights wadded up
and forgotten in the corner of my bed
a half-inch layer of dust. shedding off me, floating, settling.
the itch in my fingers to tap out a desperate plea
dripping with love and devotion. pathetic. unseemly.
perfectly fitting to the image of me on my knees
me on my back, me looking over my shoulder,
vigilant and restless.
heart, stopped. stretched out. repeating, i love you i’m sorry
i love you i’m sorry i love you i’m sorry i love you
time, stopped. stretched out. replayed and sped up over and over
practiced conversations. all the bed’s a stage and we dance
circles, repeating, night after morning after night until
every song is a dark reprise and the audience
abandons me to your mercy.
in the end you’re just another unfinished poem.
scrawled on the back of a pack of cigarettes, tucked away
in the folds of my memory, hidden, locked up.
a new echo in the smell of sweat on my sticky body.
another squatter in this ghost house, with windows broken
and wings missing, fading into thick lavender mist
a new voice in the choir ringing out, louder than the rest,
for now, for now,
til silence do us part.

heart-shaped

prologue
i was lost for so long i forgot i ever knew myself at all
and then: jesus in a flannel shirt with his hair sticking out, glasses
dirty and crooked on his smiling face,
so i threw myself into worship of his broken teeth on my skin. 

chapter 1
you crack open your ribcage and i move in.
quietly, secretly, not paying rent for the little space i take up
and i skulk around in your hidden pitch-black corners,
avoiding all that lurks the hallways,
and i try to sing to you. 

chapter 2
minutes and hours and lifetimes pass us by, burn through us, blur together
as you stretch the days to feel like more than forever.
i stumble upon you within myself at every sharp corner,
every sudden jolt of pain you leave behind is another surprise kiss,
all over again, phantom lips emerging everywhere it hurts,
my pain slips out of me past my tongue and into you, lighting you up like a supernova.

chapter 3
my prayers are simple, silent. lips on lips on teeth on burning skin,
you are a walking-talking-fucking temporal anomaly
and i love to get lost in the hazy way you play with time.
your body flickers into seafoam waves and i drift
upon you, breathing in your air. warm, heavy, sticking to my throat
settling in my lungs like velvet clouds of smoke
sometimes i feel you almost slipping away, as if in a dream.

chapter 4
we trade off sleep and sweat and touch and kisses
i still sing, and sometimes a trick of the light, a flickering bulb
will make it seem like you are listening. casting silently, i pray over
eyelashes and matching numbers, over bones and promises
and everywhere i turn inside myself there’s echoes, ghosts of you
the way you move. the way you exhale. the soft angle of your big doe eyes. 

chapter 5
jesus in a flannel shirt with his hair sticking out. the devil
with his tongue in my throat and my heart in his hands. there is
a certain kind of fun in deconstructing what you’ve made,
caressing your sandcastle until it’s poured past your fingers,
drowning in the pools that you hide. 

epilogue
my prayers, spit back into my face, echoing twisted and pathetic
salvaging scraps from the fire you set me on, sobbing, whispering
i’m sorry, i love you, i’m sorry, i love you, i’m sorry, i love you, i’m sorry
maybe you were never here to save me at all.

learn to swim

you crawled inside the spaceman’s head looking for the specks of light
that hang low in the sky late at night,
looking for that distant burning to reignite your own fires.
you crawled inside the spaceman’s head and faced
door after locked door after locked door, mazes and stone walls he put up
and took down at random when you weren’t looking,
every day a new layer, a new horizon, a new person behind his eyes
you crawled inside the spaceman’s head and threw your body against the gates
with a desperate rhythm, dipping and rising, arching like the sun
whispered tributes to the distant stars at the end of his hallways
hoping to see him open, to glimpse his ever-expanding edge
and his silence was always stunning, just as tantalizing as his words. 

you crawled inside the spaceman’s head but you weren’t ready for the universe.
so he swallowed you up whole, filled your being with the deep black magnitude of his heart
a mess of sound, a screaming symphony, a touch that burns and tears you apart
exploding your body whole. you can’t resist the pull of his gravity
(no one could, and his vastness is littered with the shards of those
who came before you)
you crawled inside the spaceman’s head and tried to find his earthly form.
and you lost yourself. and found yourself, reinventing different versions
in the prism of his sticky sweet drunken atmosphere,
but he’s not there. he never was. he’d never tell.

come inside me, space boy. i’ll open my mind to you and you can slip inside unnoticed
smaller than ever, calm at last
a thousand faces carved into a speck of dust in my bloodstream
travel with me. i can keep you safe, i can wrangle
your infinity when it starts to scare you, i can
help the air find its way into your heaving lungs, i can
stand still and let you spin, spin, spin, i can catch you
when you stumble, when you falter, when you fall, i can

crawl inside your head
and be your void, your dark matter, your negative space.

…it’ll come to you

there is always going to be someone who matters more than you.
repeat it, waking and in sleep, until it’s muscle memory,
until your tongue remembers, until your silly heart remembers,
until your soft naïve mind wraps itself around it and believes it.
you prefer it that way, it’s much better, there is less responsibility
in being a shady rest stop on the highway to the right girl,
less expectations, less constrictions,
less everything, really, no, just the crumbs, that’s alright, thanks
and you stand steady when you remember your place;
when you keep to it, immovable, unchangeable, you’re not
“the other woman” if you’re not a woman at all,
just a fuckdoll made of marble, heart unpierceable, unbreakable,
cold stone on a short leash

don’t forget yourself. step off your pillar and
stone becomes soft quivering flesh,
goosebumps, moans breaking into cries, and
sculptures aren’t meant to weep in the arms of their unwilling creators
remember your place and your legs are steady;
forget yourself and you begin to slip, stumble, stone and sinew giving out
slip, stumble and break your neck
trying to bend yourself into something else
“there is always going to be someone who matters more than you”,
your mouth whispers to itself in a blood-choked breath
always, always, always, repeat, remember. keep your step steady,
don’t trip over the shards of your own hope.