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DIE LIKE ART

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I am blank

and new.

A recoiled, un-struck

harp cord.

Hiding and tight in the

crook of an Earthly beast’s

knee. A star

in my throat. 

Over-folded eye lids.

Breathing my heart-beat is 

heavy with 

sweat.

But I am senseless

in the mouth. 

 

What newness is this?

 

A grown woman

tired with might,

resembling 

the emptiness

of a newly 

powdered babe. 

 

A fusing decent into

black soil, 

salty and torrid with decay,

makes me rich with

minerals. 

 

They take you down 

a clay dark-

You who be deep. 

 

My wet skin, a broken, sensual landscape 

toned with a

disintegrating, Taoist bell,

beneath a crust 

I cannot touch.

A crust that pretends to know.

But they all pretend to know.

 

The dive is done by

effortless force. 

I feed her black soil body 

as she feeds me. 

Eats me. 

 

 

My tectonic bones,

delicately disassembled, 

to co-shape the realms

above land. 

To co-shift the laws 

as I die

wider and brazen,

like my wanting,

unheard hips.

 

 

There will be stillness

again, for a 

time. 

 

The pale inhalation of

an end. 

 

Down here there are

The old ones. 

Rocken forms that know better

than any fruit-sage. 

Mind-mage.

Play-stage. 

Pretend drums. 

 

 

These spirits out and high

Play games with the undiscerning freshman,

Sexed by a tampered tarot. 

 

 

But not in the deep. 

The deep black is

too solid for 

playthings.

 

 

They’ll find me

The ancient ones. 

They’ll put me back together 

Like nameless pixels 

waiting for quantum commands. 

 

 

Hush.

 

Don’t budge, birdy. 

Don’t move, bunny, baby. 

Don’t even breathe. 

 

Let the weight of the world

above you

hold you down and still. 

 

You hate it. 

 

Let it be the hallowed blanket you thought

you had, in him. 

 

You thought you had in gold. 

You thought you had in cheer. 

You thought you had in pink winks. 

 

You thought you had. 

 

But you knew the un-true, didn’t you, my little

brood? 

 

The wave was right! By God,

you succulent desert flower, bright and loud. 

It was right! 

 

You took it on like an operatic 

starlet, hearing our 

shapeless, violet echoes.

 

 

Remember, we are the 

true audience. 

 

 

Then, is un-now. 

It was. 

And it wasn’t not as you thought.

And it isn’t what you try 

thinking, here. 

 

The caves know. 

The deep is in your tangy blood;

Otherworld and underworld. 

Be un-moved in 

this quiet death,

so we can pump your

blue-vixen veins again. 

 

You don’t have to know

or trust. 

 

You’d don’t have to hold up

or masquerade.

 

You don’t have to care

or intend. 


 

 

 

 

 

 

It is time for the 

hot-reaching 

tendrils of your

off-beat power,

a rebellious gold

who fears the great stop,

 

to freeze.

 

There are songs in place,

untouchable by the likes of you,

willing to reweave the 

tapestry of your 

silent explosion. 

 

Let the sirens coax. 

 

This, is your ultimate art.

 

There are winds you left

behind, that know your

 

fire 

and your

wildness. 

 

 

Don’t you remember? 

They are licking your ear 

with air. 

 

And there is water 

that you hate.

It must drooooooooooown 

your

speech. 

 

A momentary right.

Let your gauzy, tantrum spit

paint the dust. 

 

Let the suffocation proceed. 

Without your piercing mind,

Oh Lady, your valiant weapon,

A laser harnessed by such fortitude!

We know who you were. 

 


 

 

 

 

The cave dwellers applaud

your dynamic, sovereign prowess;

your alchemical, cosmic-eyed crown.

Unseen. 

But you forget:

the truth needs no 

believers. 

The father told you. 

The old ones applaud, too,

your blind foolishness by 

a single, wordless token. 

The human fool

remains in curriculum. 

Embracing her, means you reject not

your place, wandering

this paradox-box. 

 

Let that suffocation proceed

without your witty ego,

maturing alongside the 

widsdom-tree of your 

tempered tongue.

 

Know it all. 

You know it all, huh?

 

Know nothing but the moment. 

 

Be a humble knee,

Holding not a thing. 

 

Can’t you see,

The life around you?

 

Helping you die? 

 


 

.

 

 

 

 

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