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

because she asked

Posted in Poetry on August 29th, 2014 by D'jaevle

if you think you are as fragile as glass
remember this:

I’m not afraid of your sharp edges.
in fact –
each time you break, I will place your pieces in my pocket

and when all that is left
is sand
I will gather you in my hand and gently send you across the world

until you are a desert, and I a cool wind
and we can sleep beneath the stars

with and without

Posted in Poetry on May 8th, 2014 by D'jaevle

no, she said.
peace is not stasis
or silence
it is not an absence of experience

it is an agreement the heart makes
to have, without greed.
to love, without bounds
to be, without fear

without rest, without fear

Posted in Poetry on April 25th, 2014 by D'jaevle

I find I go through life
with either
great patience
or great desperation

I sometimes wait.
content to watch the shadows
stretch and retreat
beneath my window

and sometimes
I am overwhelmed by a great need
to move.
or experience a hunger
like Cronus had for his children.

I do not see the sense of walking
when I can run towards the sun
or stand still
and let the world
come to me.