white white seeing,
then nothing,
send fridge love.
Author: Lisa Marie
Day at the Beach
Self Portrait in Twilight
3 Lines
My adversary removes my house.
His name walks among my artifacts.
He pays me a tip for leaving.
Dance of the City
Evolution
My brother,
The energy of the planet,
Inexorably travels
toward a day of payment.
Skilled workers of androgyny and antimony
Mine mint mimeographs.
What is absent?
Is it the gift?
The powers that are
Cannot remember if fish are needed.
Candy
My eyes
Without permit.
Thrill shivers beneath my surface.
Light candy.
Stripping pink silhouette,
Like wallpaper,
Like lover.
My cloak is a cloud,
Dark, and rolling over me as a storm
over a fruitful plain.
Call me by my needs.
Can you tell where I’m going,
All finesse and shard?
The space between my thighs
A confection.
Erasure Poetry
Breath
Lockpicks reveal the world
gnarled like dusk.
chloroformed dolls
in their Friday night best,
monthly installments of fear,
Stoned stones,
Testify the presence of a blueing breath.
Screaming in your room,
The horrors of an indifferent night.
Becoming
the spider that wove my house
has only loaned it to me.
At my table,
cigarettes burn and puff
from nothing.
Everything is an appearing act
in a universe of inexplicable birth.
When the spider lumbers back from
his hunt,
I will be given a key to my blood,
and I will live in my life
like wet in water.
Miniature Moon 