Elise

where

did

she go?

I dont know.

We fought by the flatbed

and were late for mass.

Hidden Easter by Eric Alder

Dramaturgical Skies Dawned

Deep pollution pounds, crows’ wings might,
fate’s the whipping boy, Giving up/crazy lies,
sounds are clouds Billows torn from the same
cloth as magenta and fire flies besides the horizon
line I gave you three tries. Steps away Learning
don’t extend the parastite propagandaist for any old
Tom Dick or Harry who crosses the hearth
Never trust a holy man

Church 14 by Eric Alder

Slate and Switch

Out from your
Triangle ray
Of make me okay
What a rose colored
Robe

you throw

A glam. And I’m the sham
The fake one,
the one
they see.
And I can tell who they are,
the ones that see.

You’ll come back to me
Split skin
And disease
Oh, the girl who puts out
Feelings and murmurings of faith

Incubate that special
Know that apart from the world
Its the owning

Disregard your lessons
Not need for slate and switch.
Walls around bells
Or beginnings.
Red brick beginnings
In corners of walls where innocence falls

Diffused light
You write
What you write
Then walk to the fountain and say
This swallow for punctured heart
This swallow for stone
This swallow for rapist knife
This swallow for none
And this swallow glided wee wee wee all the pills down

Further on discovery
What a shameful me
Blood early age
Thief who arranges for pitys desire
Ripe for the wiser
See this gold in me?
Fuck it out of me.
Too frank?
See I’m a toy
And all that honest
Integrity says so much
About clean boys and their attempts to save you

But deep down still
Slate and switch
Is still the itch

Swallow As Gospel

While on
Scabrous loam

Grenade Pin
Drop everything abrade
To carry your pain

I will not give way
Gonfalon
Your cause
I will perch, a picklin’ insides
at the bottom of the archaic barrell
At the parting
Of the seas
chest high prayers to God
while pillaging the earth

Further down the road
Catch me, cavalier castaways
cavorting
In amaze of haze
I’m a masquerade without

proper parade

I don’t know why I do these things
Rouge rough cheeks

breakout cherries on beds of peach cells
Spindle pearl
In your fish net
Stalkings

Fleeting flouncing
Fleeing, then trouncing
Announcing
I don’t know why I do these things!

None of us do, dear…

Hope Without Regret

He said
It was time
To dream
And that was just enough

Wet faced
Poised and accepting
I will not fail or fall

I’m ready

Sigh-smic

If it takes an earthquake to shake my faith
Let’s move off this plate
Before thrusted asunder and apart.