don’t cry.
hope is cheap.
it is beyond the breakers and
i die among the waves.



in dreams
for though i know what you are
i want to believe the lie.
witness me,
please god witness me.


beneath him
i remember
where we died,
where we belong. for a little while,
death is perched in the tall pines above,
a vision of retribution
a reminder of our exile.

above him
i find god
a world within
the space between breaths
the ancient currents of sorrow.
we can only partially glimpse
the other sea
the other shore
but as i hold his death inside me
i know what none have ever known.
i taste the goodness in him.

it was not wasted
my love
it was not madness
but grief that led us here.


it can be over quickly.

now leave it all on the altar
in the silent church of grief
in the delirium of sin and retribution.
this is all i know.
i miss the taste of your salt sweat
the sacred poison of your devastation
the kiss of anarchy in your bed.

your body, a topology of scars
the heat of your fingertips, the extinction burst
of dying galaxies in your blood
you, a rebellion.

my heart is a wasteland.

i will tear you apart.


i love reluctantly
(love is weakness
and it is common)
but if i ask you to stay
will i find myself
in the salt sweat and nameless need
of the newness of you?

touch me mute
under stars
hold my breath
in your mouth and make me feel small
and real
the burn of your new skin
under my fingertips


you are
and i want to taste your heart
the wild cadence of the pulse singing in your veins.
beneath my fingertips
the alien landscape of you —
skin like fire
eyes like the pit
and your words like blood in my mouth.
this is
in this moment
i am nothing.

i am blind.

our future a thousand tongues of flame
snuffed out by an indifferent universe.
but here
for the last time

we will become fire.


once, when old love became perjury
and all that was lost between us
was turned to clay,
i touched you with fire
to hollow out the corruption
and you took everything from me.
silence comes after every heartbeat
each more painful than the last
i am weary
and heavy-laden
but not holy.
never that.
in the old wars
we would be without gods
without faith
sacred in the divinity of anger.
but now we are fading
gone the way of old gods and kings
each breath poison
each day closer to the sleep
that is not rest.
i continue without you
void of purpose
and if i could feel anything
it would be fear —
atonement is coming.


each day i live the dull echo of a life
sometimes certain of the intangible
sometimes certain there is no peace.

i want it all–
the silver sea transcendence
the wild autumn evening,
the silence before the dawn.
i want to be your last breath
to hold your words within me
breathe me out
breathe me in
let me drown in the dark.
and you say
resurrection —
the promise of reconciliation
i have gotten it wrong
i don’t know how i can fail so often.

the long nights are many
among the cypresses.
my skin raw with memory
my weary soul torn around the edges.
it is you.
it is always you.

and here
in the deep heart of dawn —
so close to the center of the world —
at the end of everything —
you become something other than,
older than the sum of us
and i
taste my name on your lips
the last of you
passing into me
like wind over water
like silence and light.
i hold you in
until my heart bursts
until my lungs are fire.

please remember me
in the new fields
the new church of burnt saints.