this week in Hell

gird thyself&wade
the hallow places, look
they come(!

’tis the morning light they drink
in a fellowship of rafters
stumblebum

to the evening sow the downs

lay what last
fitly sleep

&dream the seraphim made them weep

His ab is a gold rib
and the lice
are licking faith

“oh kill,
oh kill all mercies for their sake”

were there, were are
now
&thusly swore there from
there will always be

a sword
to fall upon

© Emerys Watchel, 2019 All rights reserved.

Advertisements

thief

why should i not
do this forever
”this,
beginning with a breath
foundation of thought
shaping the words to fit the image
molding clay
and “in each dying and renewing day,
describe these gryphons of periphery”

twisted figures un-complete
the grotesque masks we all wear, must
we (yes we) forcing out the caldera’s top
the vibration of will, and
the friction
of dust

,and sexual surrender
ah,
arbor in the deep
escape from the wild, dispassionate mob
why should i
not
steal and be stolen from, and call this
”a living,” not
a muggers jape

© 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.