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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.