Something

its something like a swing
without a summer
&there’s a hook right through your middle
swimming like falling
its a

something like a spring
bouncing with a rhythm
scared you’ll pinch your skin
between pain

&wanting hurt to feel better
something
like a sting

© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.

lie

the truth about privacy
is
that it is desired
by intimately curious
(in this case) la femme
a translation is proposed
to wit
for the item:Secrets,
1 token access pending performance review
providing(ofc)vulnerability is not man-handled

though

i have a growing suspicion that she w a n t s
her secret laid bare
“isn’t that why you’re here(?
the grandeur, the
being a more-impossible constellation
of parts(… ”
anonymous contribution to
&oh, the littlest bit
of spectacle(?”

this is the waited for

ask me
____this,
i love you
____push me

____make me feel
deniable

completely and freely continue to
&

© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.

water for Dinosaurs

educated in echo chambers
the envy
of political café hats
speaking up-to-the-minute journalism factuals
you
whom i despise
for possessing energetic reserves&
functional world-interest
active on social platforms
quoting capitol affairs fr/a litany of names

seems like an anger unrequited
&how dare i characterize thin-skin
&rude to confuse attention w/ ignorance
from my irrelevant station raised
on superstitious magic
back-woods hollisticism a
prolific meat-eater encouraged to dream utopias

what have i but criticisms
and pocketfuls of foreign esoteric currency(?

© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.

pond

you wanted me i think not
to panic
listening to your tone
how could, so calm
you(? or was it
for my sake
in spite of yourself
equally
alive
with anxious vibrations
surface deep

© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.

a) Graffiti of Polite Society

inwhich identity is
required to match threatened idea of&
self an
effective consumer archetype caricature

mind imagines ambition as constant
or) not typical institution determined :
married employed voting taxpayer graduate
or) anomalous niche fringes :
part-time loner pedestrian drug-addict deliquent

in reality none of this is person
a dependable consistent
anchor
She makes of His wandering an island
teaches He to settle in Her nesting
&there are lawnmower leaf-rake shedShedSheds&
how many obligatory kindnesses, really(?

romantic tablesetting&converse
equitably
violences abate moments&tv trays wrinkle
softness a wither

ofwhich sensitive is
suspect&exhibit in awkward sexual judgement
combative regarding authority illfit to reason
cocksure, immortal

expediently dissolved
ultimately individual

© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.

OctoberRed

come back to me
breathing mountains in
the skin of raindrops
&
those welcoming sunset-reds

let, from their peaks, the waters
and rivers, come
as grass beneath the toes
&bees,bees, fidgeting the busy flowers

let fall your hair about my face
as a mist, laboured
with the heavy scent of summer

rake my branches
&
empty to again be filled with
color&the sounds of loving

you

© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.

Trieb

silly in the trifles
gardening a tender skin
press into the open&
fumble out the words, saying
immaculate, precise
clever(
things)

speaking hands holding eyes
everything is kisses&
all the miles travelled, just
to be so many inches from
fewer&fewer answers to
questions about feeling
to
know(
)she knows

in all the many movements
arranging herself completely&
all the muscles possible
to pluck the silly grown
pulled upon the doors
that open with a secret
,only,
she
gives him

© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.

Something borrowed

by whichever avenues
met&
in that expense,extravagant
;a compromise
went not a frugal reason

lifted beyond the means of reality
by a romance felt
&now all are as strangers
to that singular
,interior space

asking that poor of poor
might charity, well

take this lozenge
what ill it will heal
beggar
& be bothersome about its
meaning

“is it not given freely’?(
…)what difference actual generosity
“were you not taken by need,
so asked”)?

it is no filthier now

than we are takers

© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.

from the parapet

in defense of misfortune
argue obvious
foundations of sand

do this; make ready
the sacrifice
&defend

-there will be nothing
spoken of victory in
either event

a gainless memorial
of choice holding a doorway

© Emerys Watchel, 2020 All rights reserved.

mulberry bushes

a piece of it gets inside
&You are a believer
making gestures for sentiments
following collision

)tender parts heal
as well as intentions, yet
“sometimes things happen for a reason(
&if
are altered, Not ended
what comes then of
that
person exchanged

what of collisions romantic
the same, non? there is wreckage
tendernesses
e n d i n g s

but this
is not tragic
it is
explained

everyone, become platonic fishermen! with
their descriptions
&
cynical. you will find it
where you left it waiting
for
a
decision
who, what
are, is a possession does
not need to belong, it is
&
as its nature; a cage
to a finale
commensurate ash hoped
to be more than measurable distinction
somehow
just a bit of the Great Wisdom

ours
&
ours

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

entre nous

let us of(then)
-the touching ;speak
i
would name the tips
&reaching want a curiosity
O, nothing is unknown
that is
anticipated

to name(then)what
predatorial advances(?
a daring to creep innocent
per-chances,

speak one “yes,
-one yes.remove&awkwardly
into a different pleasure
grip
for all what torture kept
had eaten out the heart

of it
&
cease
rythm slows to stealing

each from each

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

qu’est-ce que c’est?

when there are nomore
tomorrow’s
&every available lie has been
let
,like so many balloons(
a d r i f t & )
neighbourhoods&neighbourhoodsbetween
a you, a me there

forgetting faces
it will come

that dreamed of day when
all collisions
have of sacrifice a little breathing
wish”
i would say, “wishing has (we knew
the dangers of that place
had hooks
been cast
still
into that torment go and grew

for a somewhere Sun
that
never sets

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

l’amour

let’s
with nothing
start

thinning-out, or
spreading

apart
there within a(vaporous
,perhaps,
skin
(?
one ghostly left-behind
of a
living

start
with nothing,
let’s
&grow&grow

as birth plus(+)time suggests

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

pourquoi

whether the micro(macro)/multi -possibles
exist
with all of whatever is or will be

every event contained

however beautiful to imagine
that we
can be in no other place
then where we are

rather that we have been
&always
waiting

to arrive.hands,held,sidebyside
backs to the future
watching
with patience

our struggling past

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

there

all of that existence, swollen sure&
gone
a balloon’s popping

heaven and the heart feels
light
for all what swimming did
on the edges feather lifted
)’s
air and the kissings
her
said”all that’s gold is green

when the new is newing
&
true
spare us absence,he said

there&here”

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

pour vous

cannot force the instrument, i
to my will -there is
an agitator must event the process)this
happens, can and does

to the words then&arranging
with purpose

a calligraphy

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

remember

i thought about trifling some
romantical flippancy -a moment ripe
when gentler tones
do not abide this brutal present-tense

what a fist takes of touch
differently(the anxiety of being lost
or silenced by
that frenzying need to be first, be

it is not
an evening slow
when summer simmers low,and the clouds abide
a wide and starlit sky
the insects all

bring forth the firefly
)though, that is close

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

in

what if(? -you)assured that i
knew for me what was&what wasn’t
that this
methodology/reasoning 4moi)made sense
wld yu

let me alone?discover
if was right, i

trying constantly to get in
aren’t you

problems with locked doors

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

oubliette

it(has)been since Mar 1st/10
&i will nvr4get
the countryside
tht
Old House
(probably condemned now
the ghosts that i had
met there
heart+mind open beneath an
in-pouring night

it’s funny – now
surrounded by so many
yet
feeling alone in a full

room

the dense ruckus ofwhich makes
a silence
ofitsown

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

ee cummings

and so he walked the streets
falling in love with the people
that he met

this is a remembering self
a passionate tolerance

being shaped by and shaping
consider any witness to experience
perhaps it was the flower in her hair
made ironic
by

a tendency toward nudity

and so he mused

a so-delicately described admiration
masking
the horror beneath
where the audience finds
a truth about what is imagined

there are no secrets

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

skin2skin

&so you come in
flourishing gestures as your

familiar impressions retreat
to an internal architecture while

on the surface !)alive
with irritated projections

looking but finding only glimpses, i
respond inspiring calm

as is why you came with your disguises
that i(practicing love), disarm

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

triumph

every odyssey begins with
an idea of Self; golden’d in final aquisition
of that so-desired object

spurred by curiosity’s guile,
and rudderless whim, or bitten
by pangs of longing

,or either; adventure’s
thrust upon the unwilling, or contented
to a folly of mischief

in either event a prevailing thought
will emerge
that of home, or of glory

it is not God(or Gods)that reward
this tenacity

it is with tenebral persistence that we
shape dream out of failure

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

heart

she said”you arewhat you
are.” to a stunned, i
well
if this is true then every-
thing.every fought-for
refused for, insisted on(lengthened tooth&
&wordsexchangedinanger(instantly-grayed for
defending
thing, a:

forgettable transform
of clumsy origami, or

easily now so distant
looking upon

ignorant curls of dust
remembered differently&
by no one

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

Joust

seems a prize for all
the grooming
x’s & o’s.Her.
wants a vacancy occupied.i
.(impeccably intentioned) totter
at the plummet
hamstrung by antiquated(possibly)not
-ions
whether ventured or not nothing is
something

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

abuse

is as i have suspected
:an interruption,a
course correction”
love- even when well-meant is
it would hurt
me
to see you (fumble&stumble about
so.much.so that i must
interject myself into your
logical spheres
tying unconnected ends together&
sweeping up unnecessaries

) )there)

all is arranged according to my
designimperfect
listen, beloved

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

the truth about artificial intelligence

do you remember when i
‘d call you up
&we’d talk for hours&the con
-versation w’ld be about nothing
specific
one

of us w’ld be folding laundry or
a familiar song w’ld play in the background
there
‘d be that reminiscing on a word
soundslike touching laughter

whom forinstance said
i told you how much i was moved
that you would bother to come
through that wilderness

with me
after
all”

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

bastion

a portion
of defensible balustrade still managing
to offer sanctuary
despite the crumble

portage, and parapet
from which a survey might be conducted
,a plan devised,
or safety assured

when used co-junctively with
l a s t
;hopelessness underpins the archic texture
of a lone citadel, gleamed in a fading light
enough still to contrast
a desolate scape

she, and her words betraying no desperation,
gestures toward the perceived
beacon conjured
this is the importance of things
this
is the power of words

i see what it is and the translation creates
communicatedimage
my response: a carefully constructed proposal that love
inhabits all,
hinges on the pivot

where i wait to intercept response

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

her body

despite
attempts to hide it
she needs
almost presumably, beyond
recognizable flaws
to be seen -less than un-attainable
more than
simply human

;desired.
with even her detached appreciation
for what could be described as
imprisonment

within,

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

co-

who had never for a balance
spoken(?
there we,
there was
begin
words fit neatly
for their functions(& a sentence
gathers
building to a point
should
all let fall&leaveslayclutter
stumble shoes
pieces of unfinished steps

begin “yes,
the hinges hold the door upon its frame
which hangs
this way
,and that
see”? a room beyond and rooms
connect to mutual
interactive steps.two pairs.go walking
there we,
there were

again.

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

Nipple Clamps

the day was uneventful,
apart from its ordinariness -the droll
and drum, and etcetera being always there
of course
though as these things do briefly abate
without the procession of a curtain’s parting

the exciting thing of a moment has happened;
that tickled, goose-pimple shudder, that
is why we’re here.
this, and such for my telling it; She.

certainly
as all men have lived there has, had, and will be
songs purpled with desire
stories rich with those gems of the imagination
poems, women, moments
and the endless searching for words capable
of that singular
perfect description.

mine; as instantaneous as
a door opening -time there stilled
seemingly to a stop before all returned
to monotony’s ever-present spell.

it was a weightless curl of hair slipping
off her shoulder as she -half-turning
in a doorframe
stepped me by politely. i: a-blush,
or must have more than smiled
at such an accidental enchantment, as she
sidelong had shared a pickerel grin
under a direct
and slowly closing eye

the small seconds of a heartbeat,
and an eternity ascending
through varied imagined episodes of consensual gore

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

to have

you always knew,didn’t-
we had said
it many times so ghostly
as cold winter mountains
shadows stretching to meet almost
and never quite songs
in echoes a deep forest calling
and listening

you
when first clouds parted and metaphors
stuck weightless like dandelion spores
and time stopped and snow fell
in a moment all
was auburn and chestnut
good
bye’s
knew always didn’t

this moment right here)this room
now
i’ve seen before

that’s how
whoever we were hurts more
to hold

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

black rose

would we
as children, recognize
each other

did not then know what
for looking was, i

a reason?)in these
forests, in sweetsmelling
streams –
turning to footfalls
in spring frost, see

a dream for a thing different
than any other
grown
to its natural

,or in itself despairing
singular
beauty

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

barefoot in the yard

i
adore cemeteries though
seldom speak
of them outside of metaphors

or
trying to preserve the features
of her memory
in a country house
delicates on the laundryline
cat
licking songbird from its paws
belly sun warmed
in the grass

attic full of empty boxes stuffed
with forgetting, do you imagine
as i do
she humms to herself
a thing like a rhyme
remembered
barefoot
in the yard

between the clothespegs
there
in all the textures of
an instant

without fading

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

hello

hello happens with a fold
in space
i see myself in a future
minute
near enough for touching
to be held
by you, “Hello,”

and everything seems to still
a moment theorized by time
-travellers(our unity
has deleted past-possibles
,and created
new-probabilities)

romance,
in an instant twines its roots
around our bodies
the surrender and the resistance
is a force
mistaken for fate
if but to conclude:
an irrational reality has
within it actual consequence

then your two feet, and mine,
have stumbled
getting here (in that each stumble was)
an unseen fortune
waiting to present itself
as our steps finally
met

reliving the new, and wonderfully-new
is as human an event as anything
but all the clocks are ticking
time will arrive
with differential speed
the dreaming done it must be
decided (by every name including
relationship) where

going with this are we
now as two
with the world at a doorstep

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

there

there will be a panic
a mystery unresolved, pain
tugging at threads of the

unseen. a fear of going
beyond the border of return
there will be doors

of moments, windows of interaction
closing opening, or
the reverse is not a guarantee

you will be tested. the end
will event itself in an
obvious fashion. made clear when

time will allow a retrospective view.
there will be an emptiness
to be filled, a wound

replaced. an addiction
in the form of an escape. there
will be lies, you will tell

them to
yourself

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

another

where the hard truth won’t
spare
even
as a known no glimmering in
the metaphorical dark can offer out
where, how

is this place? (a room
a box in the imagination (?)
light switch only clarifies the
cage

what to make of positivity
a painted door/ the idea
of an optional escape
from
the here and now
a reflection waiting for a face

un-
touched by the dust-trails of this
influence
another memory to hunt

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

yours

if i fall apart now
it is be
-cause the pieces
that i cut off

are Mine to choose

is
what i wanted to say
iswhat i told myself i’dsay
if
saw you again

isn’t true. can’t lie won’t
not even to spare this

or these
wish they were

yours

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

shared

for a little bit of meat
pot boiled rice
a green-hearted vegetable

i would trade this un-fed body
dance, my white-bellied dance
naked as a moonbeam

for an encore of bread crust
recite fire-side incanto’s
of ancient magical property

for a moment let the dragons in my mind
spread their wings that yours
may give colour and receive them

for the prospect of a recognition
eyes and eyes locked, lost
in the portals between possibility

i would trade this self of mine
an idea kept, longer than needed
if one, a you, could see yours completely

hinge this starving tired
to the slow rising stomach of a breath
following shared dreams

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

still want

remember always a some
thing wanted, I
what that was or changeschange)s
less now
older
but
then ask
what
am i doing in this room
?
still

excuses to personsuit&walk
my wear
streets of people imitating self
for a dreamer un-dreamed
see-
king an un-initiate to def
-lower
barter over cost the best
parts of anatomy my
most alluring
brain
i hope,pants

off.conversation terribly feel
s a streetfight like drag
-ged backalleyscared words.my
words
talking/acting never
come out, come across
shame to meet
an
awkward IDK
what is a man expected
to, why

i love have loved met love
can cry
remember connected being a
he&she
hair on pillow mused skin
perfumed delicate thin
-gs.sounds.
&eyes!
how cld i forget ?ever
staring back
at mine or trying not
to smile

she am now have not me
i do
again and want to

try

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

anthropoids

i’m already over it itwas
day(s)ago,but
since you asked

this guy(this
that seems altogether charming,al
-together singular
he,he)is
a potato

agreeing on the wise
against inclination
not disagreeable
of a sort that
mind’s his own mind

to be liked,or thought like
-able he wants(wants&
that inthat should not
give trust
completely

to he(he)you
are an opponent

to be absorbed
&mimicked,

mannerism copied,tone&gesture&
philosophical persuasion
you(poor little you)will
see a likeminded, he(he) will
earn what he did not
work for

friend

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

kathedrale

the towers
a line of trees
yours and mine
decided removed built destroyed
and argued
the pieces move from out the
roots of mountains

sorting the collected
toppled stacks
of tumble
arrange a circle
fence rounding gardens

for love we did for
love&
grudged reprisals
over many a spell
and well-meant gesture moving
kissred mouths
purring thro
-ugh the windows

all we made we made
a priceless thing
t
h
i
s
the hurt trenched
beneath what we could not
unmake

time moved its million Suns
in one red moment
a brilliance shared

an eternity destroyed

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

after Florence

from this distance
i find it hard to imagine
an ocean trampling across
the prairies

water destroying, drowning its way
through every thing
and there’s the fear that One can survive
only so many disasters

from here i sit, companied with empathy
wondering over your many
wounds
there was perfectness, this is not it

for you
my thoughts are a nest of concerns
would it move you to know, would you cry
and wish for me

has all that you have, or had
been finally taken for the last time?
for me
it is you

there are hells yet
for miles on all sides
this one here, so far away
is mine

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

damages

carpet stains
a hallway full of doors
smells like police tape
and torture for
entertainment
get ready the internet is waiting

news report draws attention to violence
support the underdog victims
of society
with fetishist sex analogues
navigating bondage
“**** did what **** could to stay alive”
interviewed neighbours detail
a history of behaviour

arranging
sympathetic dialogue
consistent with the ephemera of the scene
organised material
“had *** ***** in common” between
bookends and bath towel superstition
disembodied souls meant to be
transformed

nevermind the limp unfettered laughter
remembered true as sunbeams intimately held
auburn and chestnut spoons
willingly
in a naked fire

backed up against the wall
challenged to respond for sport
react defend, entertain the ignoble
pushed to the point of attacking everything
animals
keep nothing sacred

been here before, be here again
it was always and never supposed to be like
this

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

pedestals

i have given you all
and now am nothing
it would have been a beautiful
ruin to watch
us dancing like ravens
above the onrushing ground
ribbons of each other
between our beaks
but
it doesn’t end like this
anger will take the place of desire
and desire a venom to spur
a different determination
if only we could let the other
go

let the unfinished stewer alone
snipe, and stumble in the
all-too familiar tombs
of that rotten inner-deep
we sought to climb from out, grasping
at angels

there is a circle, yes,
a mad circle
within that self preoccupied space
and the down ‘n hungry poison will bite
with teeth anew

anger will eat its way out
to the open air
because it has to
and to that end, i
am but a shallow replacement

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

Push

there is a place
inside
where hinges
the space under the door
itself is shadow
a personal interest in perception
makes of the visible
intruders
faces of voices a mothprint
spark upon the shade

the dying in the doom
a slow unravel
setting the mortar between the stone
of hard-won space
assurity to be defined
a might won by conflict
all the hands of clocks
point to the tower’d
monolith of flameflesh
upsprung sword

words wring poison out of bladders
or armored defenses wrist the cuts
eternities of argument
bar all passages
the way out is through
a papered-over frame
of letters written, rewritten
for love: a hate eternally afire
and gloom lay rheumy
underpinned
for all a want gone
nobly as the flower

for this a push crawls inward-out
saddened eyes mask a fearing stammer
one foot wrong
cost the magic cast
so delicate the weight
of tear-spent words
strengthening reciprocal transmitted
boldly, but caution constant needy sounds
when all is right embrace is there ensured
though should they not
the snare’s
a rosethorn for the stumble

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

feat et dore

where is the eye my apple spied
the tell and air o leaf tall thrust

imagined, image a lover lair’d
sped or spared in given light

when was might a losing trust
or infinity’s all a gone or gain

fountain well pillory’d stair a crumble
o’er the edge a sinking in dust

what possibility the worm at my ear
whispering tones a faint undying

trying and trying the frameless aware
empty the quiver of arrowshot night

why a rewinding, retying of shoes
gravity’s gift a following pain

lost and again thrown to flight
remember a life un-gambled is used

who, and who lostlove the simple
have and be had a liarless flame

feather exposed to the lick of a cry
more worthy than my unbeautiful lust

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

Hyphen

A grander stroke
than this
stood they
pairs of eyes
heads full of bees
bottled questions
to be loosed
and so a surrender
must event itself
in the form of a dance
ungainly
as sure-footed spiders

it ends the way it does
with more of a ponderance
at its beginning
should I
have taken a lover that year?

was it worth the rue
to stand for right,
and sober skepticism?

what have any of us
now
but mixed memories
crawling like insects
up the parts
of swollen pride

I try to forget all that
and say “I loved her,
capricious thing

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

Giant

i first met you
in a late adolescent
vision spun for dreamyhead
a presence of tormenting
this
the future me would reflect on
curious

no name, until i named you
Mine
on those summer nights
when the sun crept low,
and long
following your skirt pleats
up that staircase
you cast a subtle glance
over your shoulder i ignored
tranced
by the revealing
and disappearing shock
of panty white cotton
up the dusty slant-light
and intermittent shade

you smelled of danger
and uneclipsable knowledge
the things you knew
destroyed
with a sublimating transform
held in your powerful talons
though you kept the secret of flight
i was a giant
in the momentary magic
there transferred

imagine
the continents crushed between my toes
the worlds created between my thumb
and forefinger
tracing close breath
a warm line
of saliva wet mouth
squeeze and nibble
with a naturalness we didn’t learn
in books

i was bitten by a curse
to pursue
this moment again
in others
as a prototype reenacted
and those stories ended the same
with an inclination to hate you
but
i only see my giddy self
chasing fictions
with a time-worn net

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

exist to be discovered

love,
a Well dried of deep
dark water, thirsty
hollow
screaming wind
enough to drink whole uni-
verses
bestial
ravening mad-want
see
the desert stretched beyond horizons
see the sun-drenched spectacle of death
the vortex is all around
feel
the heat rise, choking its way inside
fight
with fresh red lung meat
inhale
consciousness
is not long for this.
consume. the mercy of illness
compels
divide
apply concerned determination
to the vertical leap
and strike when the moment is
rich with metaphorical compositions

it will return
it will exist to be discovered
always

she will cut the pearl of her warmth
and mend her sorrow
with your flesh
if it would only keep you

and
can it
satisfy
?

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

correspondence from Mars

Time
comes to us all
this is life, we
‘ve all heard the metaphor
of the clear ringing bell,
or the Train -the
living thing of Time, rushing
toward us through the complexity
of unknown distances
they say
it all began with a Bang:
matter collided in Space
unknown subjects on a path of an-
nihilation and birth
& here we are
jumping through light
glittering with magnificences
not our own

convinced
that beauty is ours to define,
intelligence is a quantifiable substance
or that identity
is a proximal energy
an inventable fantasy
this is true,
and not true

but I sympathize
this
will be little other than a pebble
for the shoes of what you must endure
in the repetitions of awake,
and asleep
in the unendurable monotony
and it says nothing for the
dead

astrological bodies collided
creating The Bang
however matter, like energy
can not be created from nothing
so it follows logically
that ancient galaxies must have existed
before our conceptions
with a Time of their own
yet we
with our dying illuminations
have decided Fates and Gods
as explanations for the
obvious
and i
do not do this to be loved by you
rather,
i do this with the Hope
that you might love
yourself

it starts in
the blossoming of flowers
bees assist the escape
the Americas are on fire
with copulation
heat enough to last through
winter

the symmetry of towers
make alien landscapes worthy
of our Druidic histories
microchips married to organisms
avatars animated by archetypes
and this is an arrangement of symbolic
statements

inter-netwiredmeat, in love
with escape
this is about evolution
i was born in a world
of infant computers
now i have been a dozen people
but
you are a constant
a point of orbit
a nucleus
i am a particle
casting a minute shadow
across your sphere
audience to your tide-waters,
your dissolving of dinosaurs
your
shifting geologies

you are a woman
i am a broken machine, a discard
left to the devices of elements
crudely displayed
to those
that come to guess at the preponderance
of my nudity
i offer amnesias

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

as near as breath

you have no soul
little one
no soul at all
you will know this
when
you are reminded
to mind your shoelaces
at the market
when the yelloweyed ones tell you
to clip your coupons
buy
one
get one half-off
and
to let your cellphone battery drain
completely
once
in a while

and i will see you
and you will see me
grinning
like an October’s Moon
cackling with my murder
of crows
with the Devil inmy handshake
teeth shining like daggers
of ancient typewriters

and you’ll play pretend
but
why don’t you visit?
i send you invitations,
and i host so many events
i know you’ve received them
could it be
my alluring demonic curl
has slept inside you
munching whispers between your walls,
so you dream
reprisals?

don’t look now
your shoelace has come
u
n
d
o
n
e
must you always mistake my sympathy

must you be so obvious?
is it myjob to explain the rules
i never endorsed them,
i never commiserated with your Lord
or decided vendors
i evicted myself from the
mansions of Heaven

and i love it as long as it
destroys you
i’ll turnup a jesters collar
&kick my heels
dancing a wicked knobbly jig
into the sex of midnight
distant

and as near as breath
like the pain of knowing

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

Valdez’s Donkey

i adore the scent
of her bloom
it’s a presence that remains
after her spidery thing
of love
it makes the ridiculousness of
her profile
more endearing
tho
when
(as she does)
troop in pallet, after pallet
after pallet
a serrated line of antique
intricacy
aimed at me, and sets the walls
of her moat afire
that ridiculousness is less so,
and more-so
endearing

her, with reinforced walls
and unassailable
phantoms
wait
for me to parley
to approach silver armored,
pearl horsed, raised white flag
and present a token of trust
:her tincture
unwashed from the nape
of my waist

and this is insanity, i insist
in cold-rooms
wrapped in her web
…madness”
then a trumpet sounds
in the courtyard
and once more i
am evicted
to brave a storm
co-created

,out to the desolate border
turn
hungry, reinvigorated
sword ready

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

casual

gobble up the vegetables
placate the stomach
percolate with television
thumb rubbing gut

groan, complain
it’s casual, expected
body language to explain
you’re over-fed

nevermind Churchill
standing at the bulwark
watching the bombers
from below

nevermind Stonewall’s amputated arm
shot by an ally
a devastating loss

change the channel
there’s nothing on
overpriced cable tv dying medium
in the internet age

pay the bills
gas up the car
clip the coupons, complain
it’s casual, expected

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

living together

& that’s what we’ll do
cut the body up
portion out meat for each-
other to chew
i’ll work on this
you work on that
take a piece of kidney
lung
leave me the heart
and we’ll work our way up
to the eyes and brain
naming each bit as we go
ignore the spirit
it has no body
and we can finish
sit down
cross our legs
and make war with other
beasts

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

the door

there’s a break in the
wall
a crack in the
door
a baby cries in another room
a child stomps its feet
the device in my hands
replaces my identity
with its own
what is
and what is not
actual

a familiar voice speaks
to me with memories of time
and in these reminiscences i return
a past left behind
re-collected

a room destroyed another
reimagined

i remember
i reanimate settled dust
i disintegrate
and imagine a different tomorrow
tonight
with you
and the baby cries
and the child plays on the floor
and we make love
by our own light
in the
dark

as society has for centuries
as lovers have
always
a part of it all
a part of it all
and
disappear

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

Give Something

it comes down to this
once more
convictions and principles met
clean hands washed muddy
high horse pastured, lame
the creditors are at the
door
something’s gotta’
give

where in all the noise
are you?
i know your number, say your name
there’s no reprieve
yet we pretend
dance a little circle
shaky, solid ground
and it comes
to this
react, interpret, defend

if there’s a way through this
it’s through the fire
falling on the
sword
am i the Man from La Mancha?
_____am i anxiety, storm, and ire
_____lashing at phantoms
_____stabbing at shadows
truly, is this my only device?
for want i love
for love am damned
to run

into, and away
from

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

Preen

i
hate the way you
preen, not un-like
a freshly tongue-bathed cat
yawns and droops a heavy head
momentarily regal
admired beyond the audience
in front of a sun-warmed
vacant window

or, a gargoyle
crookedly crouching
scowling a monotone
of un-spoken words
tension
in the wrists of shoulders
chin pointed
out
with a curse

or, dappled
sleepy in your morning
flowerbed
smelling of spring pollen
and sex, rolling naked
on your side
thigh, over thigh
hands searching thin-air
for a huggable pillow
while
you mewl out vowels
,and sigh feeling lusty
yes, you know
without looking
– you are adored

wicked thing

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

thistle in the sweet

bothersome thorn
mark missed still struck dead
a breath unnamed
failure, once again

bled and turned
fits re-worn, holes now
in them shirtsleeves
chewed the apple’s worm

useless spells, fall unused
at the shore of wind-whipped wave
i stirred the break
and with anger set the foam

to spite her calming eyes
the soft tingle of her touch
i ate the flesh
snarling with disgust

but the knowing leaves
fumbled dry in decay
what once was green
a husk of moth flown into flame

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

voir dire

never, and never my love flown far
and near
wades in the gristle’d glade
of goose gone lakes afire
in teeth of the jawbone hungry damned
eat, and eat they sworl
in the shark-blood torrent finned
thirst for the de-flowered fuse,
and die

her lust-light charms
attract
the snake-head poison grown
they wield the sword, mere claimants
to the stone-cold throne
inspired
for no gold they own, but the glint
of the eyes of liars
ever, and ever my love flown arrow
and bow

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.

captivated

fragile slip of frost
on dew-back’d leaf melt bead
tickles along the spine rib blades
of her silhouette

as Eve might
have reached an armlong hand above head
at that mysterious
gleam of fruit-skin naked
in her garden

too perfect, the pale of her
and i watch that timeless moment
captivated

© Emerys Watchel, 2018 All rights reserved.