a quick little life

thick purple skies, swam crushed stag beetle

that makes me feel like the night hours on flight

some arc of clouds are the ghosts of lightning across

orange-gold-grey light, cold hair smoke

my blood's birthday, the melted fast of candles

warm gloves, or that is how it felt.

—Ian William L.

northern lights

"You show northern lights across my coldest days."

—Ian William L.

thoughts of/on a thousand paths, they could be screaming

The dusk is still a flare we set off.

The dusk is still a flare we hold between us.

fools

1.
Please don't let the world be in your body now.

2.
The words do not matter. I can disguise them, how the mind is crippled. I hear the song more. I feel my cold stomach throwing. I find you. I find you amongst them, in great mistakes of faith, ragged all.

3.
I want to lay out wood carvings, metal thunderheads, twin glasses halving with infinities. I don't want to speak much.

4.
So much hinges on this, what was thought safe—the book grows hands.

5.
I cannot type. I am picking gingerly at static honeycomb.

I am licking the screen, slumped. I am only "I am".

breathe out—heat strings, chemical jars, asphalt beaches.

this is a piece of scrap paper with the secret of everything.

this is mona lisa grimacing.

cold headaches.

the midnight stare.

trying to conjure a dead rabbit.

this is advertisement space. this is meat.

wrong whoreish bell.

pale contraception.

an engine of colours to smear along your palms.

gap tooth wonderland.

appendices not correctly attached.

ugly math.

this is something. this is nothing.

this is a feeling. this is not a word.

a paper aeroplane, bowel cancer, apocryphal, home.

6.
Carry your passions, no matter their ugly glow. hold them for stars.

7.
And still no way (to make a voice so loud.)

But always a new hello. maybe this time with a nice shirt, the pressed buttons.

[some abstraction. some missing pages.]

8.
I am toothache, and pirate ship. I am old and unwise.

starry glassy

These are the beautiful thoughts that warm my hands while I wait.

storyskin

"It is all the language of the train carriage—dusty, woodsmoke, warm little cross-murmurs of song."

—Ian William L.

remember me to you

"Remember us, now for the morning plays golden."

—Ian William L.

I am with you. I am loudly

See beautiful things, and know beautiful people, that all demons blunt, all days to hold you bright.

want/fear/line/address

Translate:

She stands on the lawn, in her sweat, and in her night, and ends her life.

myimpossibleandyouacross

I read books, and slowly lose words, more and more. Then a red bird across my throat. Then my blood, and a child standing in the doorway. Then the night sky is thundering. Then there is a song for this sweat. Then there is stolen.

I love you innumerous. I love you gallant.

I am not writing. I am break out of an earth. Help me, champion—cavalier—wretch—god—wound.

I can't (clockwork) express (discomfit) what (the lambs) holds me.

What is not experimental, this cardboard, and skulking, over long, cold arms.

The only thing I ever wanted was a head full of daylight.