JazFusion's Poetry

[JazFusion]

Quickening

i.
the boxes are stacked above me,
towering
with a sense of unease I've
felt since a child. we

pack our things inside
four walls, we pack
our things inside our
walls, always
inside.

ii.
I stand outside the store, loitering
in the snow. my lips are blue
as my scarf, cheeks white enough
to mask the snowflakes and
tears that fall upon them,
ensconced in silence.

I am empty, but I press
my fingers through my coat to
feel if something will press back.

somewhere a baby will fill the clothes
in the window, somewhere
a woman is pregnant, but she
is not me she is not me she is
not me

iii.
being for the benefit of love, I
can no longer draw lines
in the sand, I
can no longer watch as the waves
dissolve our boundaries in foam. we

are miles from the ocean, we
are miles
from anywhere, we are
we are we are we are

iv.
there is a quickening in the
way the tires hit the road,
gliding
across the frozen asphalt;

it will be Spring soon.

1/27/11

[JazFusion]

Fish Bones

i.
i have not fed
the fish in
weeks. they

spin slow ripples
above the surface
tension of the water,
dart up and down up
and down up
and down. somewhere

beneath the driftwood
lies the bones of
an unfortunate
casualty.

its bones
sway
in the current:
stark white ribs
like fingers
stretching
toward the surface.

in my own bed i lay with
the light on my face,
feeling the
spaces between
the intercostals. i

know what
hunger
feels like.

ii.
because it is winter i
pile the blankets over
my chest, up to my neck. my

hands are cold but you
will not feel them. instead
i watch
as you undress as
a crop of gooseprickles
spreads
over your torso.

tonight you
will not warm my bed
with your pale and snaking
arms
writhing from
beneath the covers.

tonight i
will hear the fish splashing
in the darkness
and fall
asleep
with my ghosts.


2/9/11

[JazFusion]

Petit Moineaux

i.
the sparrow sings in
the morning on
wind and amber
notes. i know
his voice, know
his song, know
we live in
cages we erect
ourselves, nests where
we hide acres
of beauty. yet
somewhere his ache
is my ache.

ii.
a
true sparrow has
claws, a beak and
two wings.

i
have none of these.

iii.
it is not inertia that keeps me a woman.

gravity will
take my skin,
my breasts
but
not my hair,
not my bones.

my hands will hang
suspended in the air,
as if in flight,
swirling
through the dust motes.

i will feel the sun on
my skin and
wonder
the elegance of
birds in flight.

iv.
a sparrow sleeps two
by two by two.

we have our own dichotomy:
my pair of breasts
pressed to you,
two hands sliding
down vertebrae,
hip bones and lips
touching
two by two
by
two.

v.
i will not be crucified a
Jezebel for red lips nor
ivory skin nor suffer the
lithe tone of sinew etiquette
laughing
with bronze throats and
rose tongues.

we are all of us
flippant and none
as perfect as the other.

vi.
and the sparrow will soar.

throw me from
the window
i
have already fallen.

7/9/11

[JazFusion]

Guess I haven't updated this in a while.

Bluebirds and Bones

bones by bones
folded neatly
he lay
near the grass
in
the meadow;

the little
bluebird
who
fell from the
boughs with
his tiny
pin feathers
rattling
in the wind.

we
are old bones - we
do not oscillate
we
do not
hide our
skeletons
in closets, no,
they
are restrained to
the yawning
space
beneath the
blankets:

shin
folded over
shin,
tibia linked
with
tibia,
radius and
ulna
entwined
upon radius and
ulna. my

hands
will seek out
your face, your
hair, your
cheekbones, that
space connecting
your jaw
to your
neck. there

is
skin enough
for the frivolity of love, but
there is not enough
skin
to cover the
absence
of you.

and
we have fallen
from the boughs -
bones by bones
folded neatly we
lay
near the grass in
the
meadow.

9/22/11




and the rain mourns your silence

i
have listened
to the rain for too
long. i

have listened
to the sound of your
teeth
clicking, to your
tongue
resting on the
roof of your
mouth.

i
have listened
for too long. the

sound of rain is
the weight of water

f
a
l
l
i
n
g;

there is
too much weight
here,
and i
hold too much
water.

there is
love and
then there is
love: the whole

of me stretched
across you,
running rivers
and channels,
spilling
over every inch
until i am
empty.

everything is
gray, we are
not separate
colors, we
are one
we are
one we
are one
oneoneo
none.

9/22/11



What Do The Dead Know But Death

what do the dead know
but death:
wet spindly bones
stripped of
flesh
interred in the earth.

we are from the old world -
my empty hands
ivory
upon red geraniums.
their crimson petals stretch
to the sun like a bridge.

and i
i reach for you:
spindly white
fingers
like overripe buds
splaying open.

spare me your tongue - i
should have buried it
beneath the peach blossoms in
May
when the dirt was fresh
and you were not so jaded of me.

and what do
we
know of love
but death?

to
dust to dust
we share.
i
would forget you.

5/4/12

[Linna Heartbooger]

Guess I haven't updated this in a while.

Yay, Jaz is talkin'!

[babybottomfeeder]

Elegy for Winter

By babybottomfeeder

It is now winter and things are cold
My mind is racing for words
Down my back races a cold thought
It ices in my balcony of ideas,
culminating in cold phrases.