Tag Archives: unrhymed

Brooklyn

Brooklyn is a diagram,
an atlas with
a body made of heartrending
pathways, at times strong,
occasionally tired, scarred, growing.

Brooklyn is relentless and real.
She’s mine. And hers.
But not yours, she says.

Brooklyn has charted
a lack of sacred space,
says its been stolen,
torn apart, burglarized.

She’s exiting this thing,
this mess of silence and disgust.
Says this vessel’s trading itself in
for a long-term relationship of resenting.

Brooklyn is all of these
underground mappings,
where the trains dart by too hastily,
where she can’t catch a breath,
where is she going?


Undone Hands

Run a sacred stillness,
generations waiting for
the hardest darkness,
where hearts are blue and wild,
sands grain apart
our lives
together.
Suns torn with
bodies echoing walls
echoing mouths,
the ancients are reddened oceans,
their guarded bones
weak with edges of
their own madness.
To open the unruly
wide and tender
will surely break
the sky.
Soft open maps
defend our investments,
define our veins,
where the ocean sees our eyes.
Can’t say one and shines.
Can’t say one and open hands.
And this is rushing disobediently,
the way the ancients look through suns
as if to stitch with untamed sense,
ceasing softness,
our undone seams.