EasterRemember what you love,Easter by riparii
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
Hunting CoyotesHunting CoyotesHunting Coyotes by riparii
Footfall of a frost-faced hunter
heavy with a winter kind of hope;
one paw raised above the stream.
You thought I would shatter with the sharp bark
of the gun, but moonlight still sparkles
in a spray of wet pearls along my sides.
I am cold teeth, I am the blood-stopping stare.
Between ActsHer new lover had buckets of moneyBetween Acts by riparii
and twenty years more than she,
but her hair was the yellow
of every happy ending,
eyes blue as a January sky.
We sat one night eating cranberry bread
that Nancy had made, crumbly and dry.
She liked it that way she said,
by way of self-defense, and we ate it anyway
because it was something to put in our mouths
that reminded us of things that tasted good
the way dreams remind us
of who we were when we were young.
He bought her Prada shoes, Margaret said,
her fingers twisting in the black fur of her restless dog.
I don't know what to think, it isn't how we live.
Well it's how her daughter lives now, at twenty-two
with her streetlight hair and police car eyes.
We could wear Prada shoes to the grain store
or the Town Hall, we decided,
with our old jeans and our winter coats.
DistemperOh, did you scream?Distemper by riparii
No, ninety ravens
released from the rack of my ribs
in a ravage of wings
have disquieted the cat.
Oh, an aspirin for my mind
(lay your head in my hand
drink me down, feather-drown)
thin its belly-close blood
uphold the constitution
of my hollow-cast heart.
[Fire the dragon
the fairy waters her way
across the winter]
So stout, so ale,
hold fast, touch bone
Oh, you would rather die
than bring home bad meat.
running through the rain.I used to feel so many thingsrunning through the rain. by 91816119
I used to feel
it was warm, safe
encl(in your arms)osed
but your words were too
you cannot reach me entirely not all of me.
I don't want to feel your pain
your anger any more
I don't want to accept that all I have left is nothing.
you didn't encircle me
you had no loving embrace
reminding me sorely
because I'd do anything for that warmth
the sun goes behind the clouds
beyond the horizon
I want to hurt you stand beside you once more
I will hurt you remember everything
more better than ever before
I want to know that
WHO AM I?
h away the pain
and I did nothing wrong.
and I did nothing wrong.
AND I DID NOTHING WRONG.
and all this time
we've been dead
running through the rain
Death's Favorite ColorPart one - Bedtime storyDeath's Favorite Color by cosmicpenguin
"Because it's custom," she said. She wore black, I wore black. "Everyone wears black at funerals. Black is death's favorite color, so we wear it as a sign of respect."
Grandpa slept. The priest told him a bedtime story. The priest wore black, grandpa wore black.
Part two - Cross examination
She wore white, I wore black. "It's to keep me safe," she said. "The doctors give us white to wear so we stay invisible to death."
Part three - Fairy tale
"It's like a play," she whispered. She wore white, I wore black. "The women play life, the men play death. The two in the middle join together, like life and death at the beginning of time." She was on drugs.
Part four - Eulogy
My mother was buried in her wedding gown.
"She told me once that black is death's favorite color." I sat back down. I wore orange.
A woman behind me whispered.