Pool of Grief – Poetry

Poems screamed up from the bottom of a well

An Unsolicited, Untimely Declaration to Several Men and I Am A Little Child

I am a lagbath and you’re
the test of time i
Hate you and i want you to know that
that I love you that i love you
I assess the risk of feeling unseen
I assess the rush of washing you clean

Cool water cleanses you,
it rests your hair from Sequoia’s roaming bones 
Fire water cleanses you
it reclaims the beetroot on your side, ancient fuschia,
Unangered water cleanses you
it washes tobacco down the drain...
My bloodwater cleanses you,
And it heals your burned roots

Side, bloody side,
Sanguine beet, hold your breath,
Emptier than Ness, 
Hem the seam of my dress,
Pink. white, window-fabric,
Do you remember it?
Do you remember me in it?
I had toes and hands and a body, I think

I love you burdened and 
i love you empty
i direct the fire internally 
there is an expansive world internal, emptier
Emptier, ash-laden floor

You, i hold you closer
than you come to me in dreams
I clutch you tighter than I’ve ever 
touched your skin, I do not 
Touch your skin,
I do not want to,
Hold me tightly, swaddle me, 
Swaddle me in leather layers


I don’t recall convergence,
Wisps escape me, endless turmoil,
My head is aflame

I recognise again, not a sensation,
And i will not forget, neverending snake, 
Ouroboros, both of us
I sit and watch through crystal
through beet juice crystal (ancient fuschia)
and red carrot 
and honey, mango nectar.

The beet was a catalyst,
I am beginning to overflow with precious reds.
Embryonic fuchsia, sanguine cavernous placenta

Your home is a bell pepper and I am the seeds. 
You need not hang a chandelier, I will learn to phosphoresce,
And I sweep up my own ashes.
Ambiguous flare directed inwards, 
you are inwards,  
I direct water inwards when you close
The oak door, the birch door,
I carve your name in a tree and it goes
through the woodchipper.

Hold me in your cocooned turbulence,
enigma, enigma, mercury, man.

The Short Jump Between The Coast of Maine and Your Watchful Window - 2022
You are nothing but a window to me 
And I want to see you, if you are there 
In Pluto, in shipyards, in the harbor of a heart
I want to see you, if you are there, too, 
If you care, I want to see you. 
In the harbor, at two.
Brushing my long hair under the pink moon, 
There is nothing but a streetlamp that used to glow warmly
Lighting your face and the skin of my body,
Writing the journal that lies in the sewer 
Where you turned on your heel 
Where I wanted to see you, sailing out of my harbor.

This is a tribute to the neighborhood. 
This is a warm celebration of the shipyard. 
This is the algae that exhales and lifts the water
And feels the wrinkles and 
Knows my fingers better than you.
The water will always know me better than 
your fingers, though they are equally blue. 
You have not the breath, the respect for the wrinkles. 
To Pluto, I send you. 
You do not get to anchor, here. 
You are nothing but a window to me.

Flower Moon Of May

Moon. Trees. Imagine this,
I don't feel like speaking here.
Know the 
Moon
Trees. you know, 
When peace beholds truth?
The forget me not truth 
that pounds through the blight.
Taste that body, a smudge of
excited pink she sees.
A way of few words,
four truths fold me in as a water 
body would.
Hold Decay Bind Orbit.
I see.
The moon, the trees.
When summer, May shakes,
It's into a purple balm.