dark

midwinter i am hearth huddled
videotapes and printed matter
as grief drags across my heart like a greasy pencil
it was only a season ago that
i was lighter than a projected image
curving with delight against the night sky
now the motor is cold
the film is stuck in the gate
and all i can do is burn

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[barce]

day versus night by barce

My best lived days are dreamt.
Abhor the night's scratched CD
where drunkards set drinks on repeat.
In my dreams she walks through cafe gardens
With hanging vines. Jasmine's aching scent
Waits to bloom in the night,
where alchohol's veil blurs
imperfections wrought from wrists
dreaming...

Where we sit there are flowers w/delicate patterns.
Their colors are as subtle and diffuse -
reminiscent af supernovas,
where hummingbirds have sipped
the morning's sweet dewiness.