WAM 2012-13Table of Contents:
| a tendance á brûlerapocalyptic backdrops i’m a seven-word apology from meeting jesus himself but the chill down my spine says otherwise i’m cutting away from blue- walled rooms and i’m slitting the wrist of a secondhand guitar just to escape the taste of soot ground into my pillow he burned there you know his bones are still smoldering i’ve taken to slipping into plasticine fantasies where rubber runs in rivers and water is scarcely potable girls wear rings to signify their single and married women rarely wear anything at all can you hear him screaming while we sleep in the filth? it may be worth waking up guilty to sleep closer to the boy who spoke in white collar facsimile too softly to be taken seriously because he’s wearing a ring that’s the color of the end sometimes i feel the wind’s kiss on my cheek like a lover or a mother or the boy too beautiful for this world but too ugly to be elsewhere and i’ve counted all the brushes shallow touches i’ve catalogued them all but the love is cheap and easy like apologies so i down it like a shot and crease the bottom of my beliefs and moses take a deep breath before casting his staff and parting the sea or did he simply slip beneath the waves and quietly request it grant him passage? there is no answer when i query the ashes falling on my sheets it comes in turns like the earth and it learns patience before breaking and i smile because the ether loves to see him burn ![]() |