Crockpot
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Ode to the Moon
Oh Moon, my Moon,
tripping the sky,
slash me with thy wicked tongue—
teach me, make me fly!Oh Moon, my Moon,
with thy burnished glow,
mock the sun (its awakening, slow)
then laugh th… -
Whore
All the elements have,
at some time, been my lover—
I, whore to earthly things,
I love all that suffer…all but the sun, too bright.
The sun, too in-your-face,
I like darkness, subtl… -
Last Breath
Long, slim bones
scratch tracks down my
bare, powder-white back.Strange, hollow knuckles crack
for want of blood
and make popping sounds
like distant fireworks.My lilting eyelids t…
