Many Tentacles

Here are a few pieces from my upcoming collection of poems, Many Tentacles. The pamphlet is filled with mainly short-form poetry all the way down to haikus. However, there is a great deal lurking between the lines.

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Build me a box of blessed birch,

framed six by six by six.

Affix on it the nettles,

the oleander, the hemlock.

Render a cross in silver

that’s free to swing like a clock.

Drag the backs together and count

the blacks beneath their eyes.

Then scream the fucking rite

with bloody and irreverent oaths.

Watch the order my vigils walk,

and lay them by me in the box,

one by one by one on top,

then burn it while I watch.

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Where there should

be flowers and grass,

or sunlight swinging through

the slats of our bedroom,

my pen causes the colours

to tilt and crack,

and that picture

falls away like glass.

Then she’s loose, a ghost

with wavelength issues—

So it’s just me and him again,

the only muse left,

the devil of my mind

and the core of the flesh

that no one wants, the possession

for which no demon is fighting. . .

Cause it knows I won’t let it go.

And it knows full well

I’m going to kill us both.

But first, we’re gonna tell.