belay the warm may
that I fall into
every day.
but I still remember june
& the options it brings
for the methods of torture
that I've let go.

Criminal's Return.

a memory of a poem
left on the bathroom mirror:

the power was out.
a face looking back
full of questions
from then until sunset.
have you been mine,
where the fever mixes honey
with the spit?...

osseocarnisanguineoviscericartilaginonervomedullary

I've been sleeping
for more than ten years
without resting.
my skin makes me tired,
how it seems
to move despite me:
with subtle trembling indifference.


waking up
is like starting over.
take spring, for instance,
& how it moves
in the opposite way of autumn
I have loved in this way,
burned up in the summer
& frozen by the end
of a conversation.

Paris Arm

when i am the sky
all my clouds are filled
with water.
desperately trying
to grow roots in memories
more terrible than air,
and always slipping.

but my tongue is tied to a swing,
one rope busted
& dangling
towards the grass.

the oak above
was once my lovers body.
his eyes still cling
to the rusty leaves,
one arm extended:
a carved heart
with initials missing.

Blu and David Ellis