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.
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.
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.