Poetry / production

Eden, a foreign garden, is spelled solitude
Doubt, a visiting Angel, a forgotten Purpose
a question: Other – Beyond – Self
You work at the temple of artifice

Looking in between faces
The world is full of accidental symbolism
In reflection become a stranger to face
Angel Lips writing release
Carrying memory in shadow, haunting skin

Moments past like boulders in an avalanche
Naked and full of another writing motions on skin
Branding Iron Lips Pressing Youth into Scars
The promised Land given in kisses and conversation
Veiled in Day Dreams awakening to the unresolved

Bleeding is never a form of transmission

Full of the unresolved
Bleeding is never a form of transmission.

There is an ocean with waves
each crest with a name
rushing to the shore to batter and steal
Rocks and Sand, smooth Beach Glass, and Drift Wood
given in Kisses and Conversation
No exchange, and eviction of residence
There is distance.

I am the ocean deep, foreign to the Sun and lands of men
I am a rift and volcanic heat
harboring life unseen by Light since these waters were shallow
I am the world beyond the Moon, who pulls tides above me
I am beyond the stars and the celestial world.
North Star, Southern Cross guide those who die and dismantle before they reach me
I am the Antarctic Lake sealed in Ice and mystery.
I am untouched by the artifacts and tools of man
I am the dark giving way to itself through heat and molten blood
I am secrets captured by machines and speculation
I am a new horizon to be conquered, full of the unresolved world touching me.

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