Comments Posted By invinculis

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channel

you are thinking of the way her hair falls in the low light. the specific heat of her nape under your hand as blood and neurons move beneath the surface. everything pulsating, everything waiting for a beat, then another. you are thinking of the silence between you as it stretches, the threat of rebound. your hands laced together. your hands stirring the ice in your drinks. how her face is the same, but just slightly altered, just enough to be altogether familiar. the years an untraversed territory, time made a physical and weighty thing. the compulsion to cup it in your hands floats to the surface and dips back under again. strips of fly tape hang from the ceiling, half-filled, swaying under a lazy overhead fan. her wrist rotates as she talks. her voice is carefully cavalier around a tight throat. you consider the way the earth is filled with shallow graces, the unglamorous real estate of death. how lumbar that could have been a ship’s hull is made a coffin and returned to the earth. you think that every tragedy possible has played itself out before, all that changes is where you’re seated in the audience. the body degrading, language becoming inadequate, the way we ask “were you close?” as if death were a blast site.

» Posted By invinculis On 07.11.2019 @ 5:04 pm

ballot

life is messy and i don’t enjoy it. every day,
another wine glass. french names too shy to
leave my tongue until forced. meanwhile,
i am 22 and washing behind the ears seems more
and more a cultivated lifestyle.

you, who still vacuum under the bed, consider the way
the days swell and fatten under the spring sun.

» Posted By invinculis On 03.08.2017 @ 6:44 pm

misled

in the dream i am walking through the field by our childhood
home where corn used to grow some summers
ago. wondering as i go, fingers just
grazing the uncultivated grass–if wildflowers
have found their way here, if the dirt knows it can make
something of the dead, if the dead know the field does not
know want even as it wants. in the dream
i walk upon myself, my strange eyes
that peek through the holes where seed would be sown
heavy with waiting, aware of the burden of desire.

» Posted By invinculis On 03.02.2017 @ 9:58 pm

in the dream i am walking through the field by our childhood
home where corn used to grow some summers
in the past. wondering as i go, fingers just
grazing the wild grass–if wildflowers
have found their way here, if the dirt knows it can make
something of the dead, if the dead know the field does not
know want even as it wants. in the dream
i walk upon myself, my strange eyes
that peek through the holes where seed would be sown
heavy with waiting, aware of the burden of desire.

» Posted By invinculis On 03.02.2017 @ 9:36 pm

pawn

leaving girlhood is not yet knowing to look back
taught the bite of desire,
someone’s blunt teeth, gnawing, and the pain is
newness, you think this is love
a ring of bruises around the neck, you think
the wet heat of your childish name
what stays, is molded

» Posted By invinculis On 02.13.2017 @ 7:29 pm

drop

i close my eyes and picture my heart,
imagining i might find some glimpse of the elusive self.
staring through eyelids flushed red
in the light, they tremble as the heart trembles;
the heart, a misdirection of inquiry.

(the mind conjures diagrams of bodies,
arteries and gristle, carefully indexed.
something in me
falls away.)

» Posted By invinculis On 01.25.2016 @ 12:41 am

craftsmanship

self reinvention: i took a hammer to my ribs, precisely,
pounded until my chest was an empty
cavity, dry and wordless. at my feet,
a horrible mess.

i did this to myself;
it was my hands gripping the hammer.

on my best days, i recognize this as a lie.

» Posted By invinculis On 01.20.2016 @ 8:37 pm

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