jericho doll

Posted in Poetry on August 4th, 2017 by D'jaevle

I knew the girl, but lost her name.
where her heart was kept
was not the same

I knew the shape, her silvered need
but not how deep the cut
to see her bleed

I lined each blade within a row
gave each a word (a word she’d know).
and I waited by the tower built
touched each edge, each blade and hilt.

route 66

Posted in Poetry on March 14th, 2017 by D'jaevle

there is a beauty to a curve that
doesn’t quite end, it just
becomes another curve
like a smile
or silk
like a kimono showing
a bared shoulder
is a curve
you
are a curve

faultlines

Posted in Crimson Writ, Poetry on May 30th, 2016 by D'jaevle

I crack nails on stone to find rich soil
mold clay into flesh
and flesh into place
heat my hands between your thighs
so I can temper skin
into marble

a smooth
perfect
cage

I set chisel to bone
and wait for

“Please.”
lean into it
shell cracked, lines split
topology and braille

I never loved you so much as when your imperfections were mine to trace.

one by one

Posted in Crimson Writ, Poetry on December 4th, 2015 by D'jaevle

time is measured observation
I mark mine by your breath
unbidden or coaxed
in ease or labored
promised or stolen

I count them all.

wired in

Posted in Crimson Writ, Poetry on November 13th, 2015 by D'jaevle

it is no terrible act
when you fit so well
in the cradle
of my fist

it is no terrible word
the one that starts
with me
and ends with you
(on your knees)

it is no terrible promise
rope, a bed, and you
bared
wet
mine.

it is no terrible price
we pay
to have it

but the hunger I harbor
for you
is terrible
and great
and smolders
like the acts, the words, the promises, and the price.

not pumpkin-related

Posted in Poetry on October 9th, 2015 by D'jaevle

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
and neither did I take.

pricked by bramble and bush,
I rambled through
counting nicks with bloody glee.
Stepping over rot and splendor,
hidden temples of bugs,
no clearing found, no stream followed
just branches snapping like weak limbs
and I, crawling, walking reverent on dying leaves
a hospice for trees.

if this is decay
it is sweet.

movement

Posted in Crimson Writ, Poetry on June 6th, 2015 by D'jaevle

the creak
under my feet
when you kneel

the ellipse
of your hips

a gathering
(tightening)
of your hair
between my fingers

sunset

Posted in Poetry on April 18th, 2015 by D'jaevle

you are the kind of affliction
slow to heal
and
uncommonly
beautiful

a sunset
all reds and orange
perpetually disappearing

(and almost always worth getting up to see
at 4 in the morning
when the rest of the world
is smartly sleeping)

betwixt

Posted in Poetry on December 4th, 2014 by D'jaevle

bewitched
by your smile, of course
found first
in your eyes

‘you’re hiding a devil’
said I,
‘somewhere between your smile and your words’

no words now, nor smile

just a grin.

‘Come find it’, it said.

winter excuses

Posted in Poetry on November 28th, 2014 by D'jaevle

the problem with winter
isn’t a problem at all

cold invites behavior unbecoming
in summer days