Lucidity At The Edge Of The Abyss

his father brought him to me in his arms and i said
“forget those doctors my friend take this clay in your hand and your hand
will move again”
and it did (his hand did move again) (doctors said there was no chance) (what force gave me the nerve to say)(same force that gives me this day cancer leaping through this body as it is all laws pale to insignificance)
death is my friend take me any time says i
take this folded flower as my heart
paler and unanswered for and yet
sea of flames you see that surely
fleeting existence such a weak light bulb high on the ceiling
resembling a bandaged head with yellow stains is my name
all as if through frosted glass
not a photograph to show for it
first of all it is already today
and second of all death my companion is a handsome man
fine feelings the only luxury i can afford
the people in the streets i don’t want to see them anymore
(my break with this world is complete)


Afterlife Of Battered

Blind tears dry spilling an afterlife of battered. Nothing more to learn.
Facing footsteps. Swollen face tucked into shyness.
Liquid crystal of once possibly otherwise.
Beloved, slow dance, I’m sorry.
Dark ratchet. First door of light.
Dawn is the namesake.
Sunflowers in unison. Undulate.
Sown and growing the same height.



bio photo burninghouseBobbi Lurie is is the author of “The Book I Never Read,””Letter from the Lawn,””Grief Suite,” and “the morphine poems.”  @BobbiLurie

Featured photo credit: Amanda Ollinik  @Allunderonemoon