let us

Posted in Crimson Writ on April 23rd, 2021 by D'jaevle

Let us talk of hunger.

Share our ideals of what constitute a fine meal. The placement of the instruments which will elevate our feast from sustenance to experience.

Let us sit, here, and discuss the shape and size of our hunger.

Let us.

Let me.

Invite me in. Show me the places your hunger has carved inside of you. The artful erosion of practicality giving way to baser nature. Let me run my fingers along the smooth surfaces of the softer considerations: Your first kiss. Cuddling in a tent. Let me brush my hand over the sharper edges, the one’s that make you bleed when pressed against. How it feels to have a hand braced along your throat, holding you in place, holding you in.

Let me lick the remnants of your restraint from your fingertips.

Let me show you.

Let me re-arrange your pieces until there is enough space for us to feed.

Let me introduce you to my wolf.

Ari

Posted in Poetry on March 22nd, 2021 by D'jaevle

in the shadow of a minotaur

I came across a supposition:

    that the difference between a maze and a labyrinth

    is a matter of the heart.

you can get lost in a maze.

    but in a labyrinth

 so long as you go forward,

          you will find the center

if we agree with this supposition

then we must follow the red threaded question it holds

is your heart a maze

   holding captive 

      poor adventurers

incapable of solving it’s mystery

or

a labyrinth

  home to just

        one.

who put their hand to the wall

   closed their eyes

       and walked

sliver

Posted in Crimson Writ, Poetry on March 18th, 2021 by D'jaevle

joy is
fading light
a sliver of moonshine
caught between
finger tips

my joy
is akin to hunger
and
the wolf of me
knows no distinction.

it chases the moon.

irrelevant of occurrence

Posted in Crimson Writ, Poetry on February 14th, 2021 by D'jaevle

i name them.

pet

sparrow

angel

*mine*

speaking in tongues

Posted in Crimson Writ, Poetry on January 14th, 2021 by D'jaevle

I offer you silence
not as an absence
but as a gateway
to a moment
where
I can
befriend
your
demons

it is not so strange
that I speak their language:
your demons know
my demons
so very
well.

let me count the things you are not

Posted in Poetry on December 13th, 2020 by D'jaevle

you are not a rose.
not pricked
in thorns
or cannibalized
for love

you are not a summer day.
if your eyes hold
a sunset
you keep it
well hidden

you are not a gift.
promise,
secret,
or encapsulated
by any singular
intent

you
do not fit neatly
into metaphor
(or my poet’s heart)

you are simply
(perfectly)
unique.

bruised knuckles and broken toys (revised)

Posted in Poetry on December 9th, 2020 by D'jaevle

we trade making a scene
for quiet today
is the cessation of dreams
the price we must pay?

hold onto these words, less we forget
that a lifetime of almosts
is one of regret

the longer I live
the more that I find
the things I miss most
are the dreams left behind

not callous, not simple, not shallow or clothed
but bared and complex, deep and exposed

not careful, not silent, not restrained or delayed
but reckless and furied, freed and remade

not counting the rings in the circles I’ve walked
but remembering the falls and the chances I’ve stalked

you can promise the peace of a path well traveled and tested
and I’ll show you my scars where the best have been bested

now tell me you’re listening
and I’ll tell you this:
a life that’s worth living
is too easily missed

portal

Posted in Poetry on November 24th, 2020 by D'jaevle

even though it’s closed
there must be another side
to this door

I’ve never seen it open.
but I know you went through it

I think –
you lean against it
listening
for my voice

even though its closed
there must be another side
to your story.

origami

Posted in Poetry on November 23rd, 2020 by D'jaevle


there are so many ways
for you to unfold

remember that fortune-telling game
at school
calling out numbers
and colors
to determine 
what kind of house you will live in
hut / boathouse / mansion

life would be so much
simpler
if we limited to just 
a few
options.

but anyone who has tried origami
can tell you.
even folding paper
is not simple

figurative vs. literal

Posted in Poetry on November 10th, 2020 by D'jaevle

I can touch the night sky.
literally.

reach up with both hands
peel back the black
and reveal that stars
aren’t
really
stars

they are the dust of our dreams.
bright and powerful enough
to burn holes in the void.

(for L&L)