rachtiouspalmer

[rachtiouspalmer]

The claw foot tub of your crimson story leaks. The winter falls from your head and dips in the iron rich nectar. Staining the pale unnatural white closer to home. You wear lace and ribbons. As the landscape wears snow. What keeps them on is the threat of pride. There is no way to enjoy your potential. Unless my hands are kept to myself. Unlike yours. These words watch you reach inside. Into the dark where you believe your fear. But there is a light in your heart. A light soft and crowned with the gentle thorns of desire. It shines from your girl eyes when you’re sorry. Another sign of myself as the father stirs. It longs to hold you up. Hold you down. Hold you close and hold you open. Hold you as you know you need. If only you could be the one to marry life and death. To spawn the new you are now. The new you know you’ve always been.

[rachtiouspalmer]

I am in the woods. All manner of directions exist. Every tree a compass needle. Every stone a fate. The ancient killer stalking me is hunger. Nothing more. Unless I make fire I freeze. Under a blanket of watching stars.

[rachtiouspalmer]

It comes to me slithering up the channel of dreams as one great reach. A reflection burning water and lapping up consequence. Soothe it whispers.

Soon I will be your bed. The restless limbs and that carnival mind. Smirking you try to companionize your fear and you would but for the tedious knocking of desire. It will make entrance.

Gushing forth memory. Tragic just one wish should remain. A promise of eternal life. Bored you drift.

And ever the champion of fate you keep all locked away above sight. Above reason. Above law. Above mist.

[rachtiouspalmer]

Stallions majestic graze,

and stand proud under dreams,

in my apocalypse sky.

The hoofs of gods,

in thunder tumble above,

as rain swells cloud up black and dwarf

the mountain.

[rachtiouspalmer]

I miss the stars. The city robs them away. A blanket of electric amber hum cast upward. Burns my celestial map empty. In my youth I counted them. Watched them in their slow spin in the heavens. In order to know my place. My direction. Now there are none or too few. And those that see me still from their perch. They gaze down sad. At the world of men so defeated. Fixed on their own fading time so hard. Fire imprisoned and put to the lash. To sell a flickering fluorescent story to children. Who have forgotten the cricket song. Who never knew the same music within and without. Who shrink in terror at naked nature and prefer a crowded isolation to silent solitude. Who drone on scrolling dull past all the dancing dead. Consuming in noise. Shrugging in boredom. As we blind in ignorance. One million silver suns.

[rachtiouspalmer]

your aching gaze stares through me, the light gauze light from a window long not clean;

it’s a late summer day breeze outside, I only hear stiff branches claw the pane;

blood swells the thick girth of instinct, this door frame of old oak rough on my leaning skin;

at the foot of a winding iron bed frame, limp satin and a worn in leather brown strap hang;

a graceful pale pitcher and water bowl, the four legs of a small table and the creaking floor;

where language ruins the world with word, now only eyes and tongues and teeth do our speaking;

[rachtiouspalmer]

red dreams, not a clue who broke the knowledge;

drab scene, bothersome;

cold test, what numbers say to children;

fine sweat, pressed under the grins again;

black rose, a devil inside my good choice;

tall wall, bad substitute for a vicious grab;

quite wrong, no one speaks ill of the late comer now;

pure fault, wish away laughter for medicine fix.

[rachtiouspalmer]

The last one I remember. Vague in the shadows. Waiting for your nod.

The flowers hum to themselves. A lady in the park. Tired of travel.

Perhaps we live here. Street vendors do. I sigh and sip warmth from a window.

Across the street and two doors down. The chapel bell tolls rejoicing. Blue sky birds and life has begun.

[rachtiouspalmer]

aspects of crime, the judicious and nonsense;

your surrogate mother, the cruelty in her fix;

fresh green tight, it bites at your privacy;

stumbled en route, a silly young arrogance;

freed by a yes, here tear lust open;

sought after locks, permitted to deny me please;

braids are trusted, when I hurt you there you hurt;

same crime absent, coward culture the father of ills.

[rachtiouspalmer]

In agreement about the weather. You and I exchange notes in the form of photographic charm. This ancient desire to know you.

And we feel in our bones that we aren’t to last forever. No say. On our way to the dirt let us at least have a taste. A licking up of each other’s wounds. That sweet nectar life leaks from your swollen flesh.

Swollen with the blood of long gone lonely kings. Their ambitious silent queens and desperate hungry peasants marked for death by birth. Ancestors all.

Who through time like us lost their breath and fell dizzy and possessed when also so very close. Like you and I once strangers to showing each other such naked love. Assuring us together between the truth.

That all we ever want is to devour another soul in passion. Devoured ourselves we strip and drive and bite. Longing in the end to leave each other soaked and breathless. Writhing on the bed of validation.

[rachtiouspalmer]

In a sky still clinging to the day. I see a moon and its invitation to dream.

Moving silent through the gate of trees. Two sharp sentinels thrust their insistent watch upward.

Tearing through the soft air of my eyes. In an effort to grow.

The stacked brick and rods of iron follow asking their hard permission. All life up and out from the earth.

Even the loyalty of dogs stands. The defiance of gravity.

I watch as my people pass through their gate of iron and brick. Like my moon through guarding trees.

Like my dream through still waking skies. Like memories of you through time.

Like this is life through death through life.

[rachtiouspalmer]

a glint of sunlight runs the black tusk, a scimitar of blinding white slashed at my flexing eyes;

the trail of cutbacks snakes the dry mountain, the old world dust rising from boots to sap my mouth water;

against my leg the hanging barrel, tapping each step to remind the hunt is a tedious bore;

an old animal knows where to turn into shade and rock, disappearing and I ill equipped for the wild;

two days on the scent and hope is in doubt, just when sleep of vigilance comes the mark shows to offer;

wedded now in blood and hair meat, still a soul between us whichever beast still lives.

[rachtiouspalmer]

And who speaks to me of love speaks not to my hearing ear but to my seeking wounded wonder;

And who brings me water brings not the quenching of thirst but a hope renewed that I might see a moment next;

And who listens to my word hears me not but gifts me fresh time otherwise running through closed fingers as sand;

And who walks away when I am silent abandons me not but sees with the eyes inside a healer tending his work at the crucible of solitude.

[rachtiouspalmer]

These secrets leap from my eyes like milk. You know my low and now the spilled ink runs.

Back to before when questions burned. But this is the myth.

I let you see the basement machine. I bet you learned.

Heat in the form of sin spreads fast. In my chest your finger tipping scales.

I wait.

Hunted in the dark of day. They say a man exposed turns prey.

[rachtiouspalmer]

a tendril of smoke, two dime store horses;

a chalky film of grey, the sign and watchful dog;

a glance westward, the memory of fault;

a sigh, the heavy step toward home.

[rachtiouspalmer]

this sun pours down me,

dry wood screams suffocating—

betrayal of night.

[rachtiouspalmer]

I am raven in flight.

Too hard for your night.

Too bold for your eye.

Too dark out of spite.

Too calm for the fight.

Too swift is your plight.

Too old to judge right.

Too deep to see light.