Monday, December 24, 2012

Lewis Lacook - Selections for the Mystery Engine


an arch of fallen and slow-rotting tree stalks the back-woods
your mother engineer cateclysm
songs that keep the hunters soft dragging you over the crags of the void
bones she's collected forgetting itself among crows

cannabis you smoke in the meadow mellowing to oranges and reds
but his eyes dribble and dab from between your fingers
yellow light of workspaces scolds us for our mildest winter
but the pace slips out of his damaged shirt

the part of her restlessly tugging the ends of you slipped back around the corner again
each and every failure was the first thing she saw when she woke
the latest digital jobs stands adjacent the blizzard
but his eyes cracking old growth as you pass by

cold fingers suggested the beat of his blood for you to friend
though stripped abandoned sofas mellowing to oranges and reds

December 24 2012


our colonies avenges your gestures on sadness
approaches to living time hiss amid the creases in the chaos
your wooden box of sour herbs expires like food

December 23 2012


a morning's giddiness have been traced on thin paper
what you suspect is true about the invisible came through the stream frowning forever
clotted emblems whispering in the edges of our grandmothers
flies working the dead mouse down haggard stars

another vague request whirling through the misspent rooms
bacon blurs the edges of alone mornings
if we who mask our skin with shrill lead escapes your lips
everything you've ever eaten enduring silently the tension needed

a leather thirty years an apt rain
brick red tar paper barn tell a long story to your spine as day wreaks one last skirmish
and the pallette of cigarette vapor twirling enclosed by brush
yellow grass under a shroud of snow tickle our lips with ghosts

but then his face trickle into the red barn and weave clusters of prehistoric leaves
the writing parsing you sour and lost

December 22 2012


crowds that stand near your thoughts silking in the bottom of a coffee cup
overview of all traffic glowing smeared across our mouths our fingers
the sleeping girl hums like winter vents
dirty dirty cigarette dropping nuts from whipped branches

as if assimilated the bird elongate and pale to scars with time
the part of you that stands in tall grass loving with your eyes hardened trees
slick clack of dog's nails misunderstanding all you see
though our gods are all in heaven eating your dead

the way your hands talk to mine isn't listening to anyone now
songs that keep the hunters soft penetrating the rainfall
pools in one end of the yard gathering ghostly cat hair along its spine
the part of you up early watching dawn are drinking grins out of fruit jars

the part of you that is a vain animal pieced you together from scraps of singing
your burned wood typography assembles music on sharp air

December 21 2012


the defiance of sunflowers move by sighing just under wind
innocence with nothing in their heads hold sky
swatch of rain light over treetips streaming down your face

December 20 2012


yellow light of workspaces pluck at her oils
those of us coated in animal prints walks the meadows unmolested still
a short break open under your fingers with a warm breath
the part of you that made it through to fall can calm beneath wet fingers
a choreography of lake-winded trees came through the stream frowning forever

December 19 2012


Mystery Engine is a generative poetry engine. It composes a poem randomly every day from sentence fragments in its database.

No comments:

Post a Comment