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Tag Archives: Stephen Mead
See the future. I do not fabricate. Your disbelief tears up truth, Casts deceptions from the wayside. If you could realize a torso only immortal In stone, re-piece the scattered limbs, Find discernment in the head’s graven look, Then you … Continue reading
My, my— horns of two kinds, from brows & against lips, with swords, with scythes, those flashes, the folds between, each of each, a series of wings, of shadows fluttering, the whoops, the slicing sighs of light now brighter where … Continue reading
The masks have slid & now There’re these fluid faces, The perfect hermaphrodites, These firm hands, these delicate hands, This weight, this lightness… Androgynous, this world of other & what is absence? What is lack? The malady of analyzing Grips … Continue reading
Burners turned herky-jerky, the berserk motion of drunks— From what basin do these waves accelerate? My arms, sails, winding around masts, take flames leeward then shelter the hush, astonished by what oranges, topaz, bejeweled gusts bleed up blue. How anguish … Continue reading