Foggy Headlights (and Chromosomes)I don't remember if it was a wedding or a funeral, only the flowers...Foggy Headlights (and Chromosomes) by Bark
seemed like millions of them
Soft, sorrowful, white flowers... roses or orchids?
I don't remember now, maybe magnolias...
You smiled a thin smile, your face pale, washed out.
If it was a wedding, I wasn't the groom.
A funeral, I wasn't the guest of honor.
I never could get things straight, somehow.
Morphine DaysSepia world, barnstorming, brainstorming, building up, looking outMorphine Days by Bark
Of dusty cracked windows to see it all happen, now, again, bold
Into the empty yellowed skulls piled up around the old church
Only on morphine days, though, when we fall out of grace
God, look at the crows, how many pilot their way across the sky
Obscene noises through the dust, shitting on old rusted machinery
Abandoned throughout dried-up, smashed-down stalks of corn
Here, to the left, the foundation of a house that no longer exists
There were good days here, once, weren’t there? Maybe not…
99 DrumsThere were ninety-nine drums in the line, speaking loudly99 Drums by Bark
about thin white blankets, bedsores, red Jell-O, disease
About the sky cracking and falling to earth in sharp pieces
About the old nodding out more frequently now, their
bodies shutting down for the last time, faint groans and sighs
The buttons have been pushed in sequence, no return now
Crossword puzzle books and Uno cards abandoned, TV
unwatched, drums drop out one by one until at last only
Not even shouting down the halls, but whispers
I remember the trees were just beginning to turn when you left
And how a hard driving rain swept across the grounds
The sky cried all night; I took your dreamcatcher home
in the morning; there were no dreams left
Installation PieceIron thorns push through skin, I’m part of an installation pieceInstallation Piece by Bark
Flesh and bone, metal and stone, electronics
Wheeled in on a cot, phones for eyes
That never ring
But I see how they look at me; (they’re thinking)
How lonely it must be to slowly die alone
They smile anyway, good at faking it
After all, it’s their job
One day the artist will be able to push a button, and I’ll spin
My speaker-mouth will sing about snow
Only one more push allowed
And I’ll spin into space
My last human thought will not be of you, but of us, together
Sitting in the cold morning, coffee and cigarettes
Back before they began assembling us
One at a time
Dancing in the StreetsMy brain needs food, maybe peanut butter flavoredDancing in the Streets by Bark
Something to jolt it into gear, into inspiration
An old 45 on the Invictus label, or lemonade stand sun
Maybe the Necronomicon, maybe crow-dancing
Something to awaken me and start a fire downtown
Could be you, your hand grazing my cheek gently
But more likely something old and iron found in dreams
Something besides the wavering headlights in the fog
(Where the fourth line of this stanza just disappeared)
Maybe a ghost owl and a near-dead crow in a duet?
Places I've Been You Wouldn't Want to GoAn oil-painted robust cowboy riding beneath epic Western skiesPlaces I've Been You Wouldn't Want to Go by Bark
But a dark cloud passed, a tumor grew, dreams rotted and festered; yippi-ki-yi-yay,
A dark court of one-story apartment buildings, hazardous, broken
Decorated by a rusty tricycle, mops on back porches, dead dolls
Fear of the one-armed man;
An old man with the smell of disease about him lies in thin blankets
A faucet is dripping, a clock ticking, a dog howls mournfully outside
Empty bottle of pills;
Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye.
Poorly-lit paradoxWhen you return to a place,Poorly-lit paradox by EmmaSloane
(if you ever called it home)
arrive after dark
and travel incognito.
It's better that way,
to slip into the past alone,
inverted pyramids shook free.
They will find you
with their question marks
much sooner than you think.
Trap moonlight in your skirts
while there is still time
for silver to pool
in a bowl of lap and legs
and wander the curve of night.
Chamomile and Various.filled to the edge with chamomile teaChamomile and Various. by claytonwoolery
i watch through the wall of my glass
dissolving sleeping pills.
i fizz away with each sip of tea
waving cello bows and soft brass
hazing out of speakers.
count the little holes, crater surface.
fall into them, with eye-shut purpose.
wake up dreaming, and ah, sweet, you are here with me
let's tumble aimlessly let's chamomile tea let's
get (married maybe,) outside with all our friends and family,
dead and alive alike, they are all invited!
oh, sleep dear, we are stretched across grasslands!
clothespins have us by the shoulders
hanging to dry, die, falsify salsify and posies
just two pansies
oh, i am flora, and you are too rosebud! lavender! crocus! orchid!
oh, i am dream, and you are too my deer,
awkward legged sprouting buck antlers,
extensions of you, let's tangle them tried and true
oh do keep me in this night, bright, shining dark
and visit me in comatose love.
Late JulyThe time was the third week of JulyLate July by rockgem
And I still told the hours by dandelions;
Despite the shy sunlight peering down,
Patchwork skies smelled like coming rain,
And the click of ladies heels on asphalt.
It tasted like the swim of elusive soap
In a warm bath to soothe bruised shins,
And the caress of deep plum velvet
Behind candlelight and ivory walls--
Between mahogany towers.
Fair?You avoid the cloudsFair? by RequiemsandReveries
I don't know how
And I just keep spinning plates
You don the game face
I eat fire
You keep your distance
And you should
I fling myself onto
A bed of nails
Heads or tails
Then feed myself
To a lion
While you clumsily
What you need to/too
I know it's you
In the tiny car
And me with the sad face
It says so on my palm
EnoughYou've tried everythingEnough by RequiemsandReveries
To try and fill the hole
Time just slides on through
And memories fade
The edges of my mind yellow
But the marching continues
In the din
I can't hear over the static
In the thick
I can't breathe
You can't strangle the silence
Of two different languages
And deaf ears