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Maria Morisot

Published by Moan Lisa Press

Copyright © Maria Morisot 2015

Land locked iron

bell; breath

becomes complacent

Hell, I wither

in her smile. As

teeth observe the

similarity of

Satan's skin, painted

red; glazed over

with fruitful tastes.

All the while,

every crack of

ordinary composure

places this world

at the pinnacle

of lip service

and lies. I offer

you my own

version of the

truth; what will

you choose to

find beneath the

floor boards

when you die?

Two disjointed

columns; like

the Twin

Towers signing

a pact

with the

devil. She

sings "hallelujah,"

as the

world collapses

at her

feet, and

angel in

divine suffering.

What I keep

locked within

my breast; within

myself, and only revealed

through momentary

looks of anticipation.

I hold my posture straight;

shoulders back and

my head high.

It's my lips you

look at, more than

anything; their

movements shaping

how you think of me.

My ears

are open

to inter-


your con-


Give me

water for

my thirst,

and dreams

to rest

my head upon.

My echoed

shadow, and

hers; as I remember



so cold in the

dark room, my

back bent and


became me.


who would

let me sing;


the population's


No hope for

mercy, just

let it play;

wrap the

winds with

ecstasy, and

let it play,

so tomorrow

may come to

steal the

rains away.

Your words are

out of place,

my eyes look

for your face;

and every little

detail of our

surrender to

disgrace, leaves

me opened up

to the possibility

of combinatoric


It falls down

around my skin,

these heavy

years of vio-

lence and


matters; when

I was ten, all

this mind of

yours was dis-

appeared, and

I could see

you then.

The blood trail spreads,

and I open up my womb;

there's a burst of Heaven

here, in the allegory

of my cavity.

The central point;

sensitivity perception,

I play my role and cast

my pearls before the

Swine. Every day apologies

reborn, in my sequins

and my skin; I sight the

end of everything. I

sigh, and it's the end.

Holding on

to your


grabbing at

the door frame,

naked and exposed

to your eyes.

Lips hushed

for the ringing

in your ears; the

violent principles

of sedentary


You owe me

in this heart of

hearts; beneath my

flesh draped over me.

Folds and flaps;

bushy masses of


and how I

kiss the sky.

There's no reason

in this superficial

appointment that

I should scar

myself; but there

are scars,

and there is bleeding;

and there are tears.

My heart is hidden in lace.

Crown of

buds blooming,

my arms

wrapped in

silk; I

disguised myself

to be

the onset

of insanity.

To move

oceans and

sink the

earth into

the pit.

My wings are made

of roses, and I lie;

ready to devour.

Again the

same, some

other job;

To love myself


from the outside.

I am Jewish,

love me; I am

not my goals, I

am not in front

of you crying.

The same

issue I guess,

my choice:

studying it,

I wish I were.

Peach in

place where

signals rush;

I bite my lip--

And close my

eyes to the

television's mind;

deep in meditation

finding truth a

marker and a

meter away from

everlasting grace.

Perception's care

curtails these

odd erotic

fantasies, and I

in better position

Than her

whose cuts

became her

signature of

everlasting life.

Bridesmaid's blush,

a rosy

red; the

camera resides

on the

insides of

her mind.

There's no

escaping here,

this armed

attraction between

God and follicle.

Sleek designer

limbs; I'm

mad, I'm

trapped in

this asylum &

my breath frozen

forward fading

breath, captured

on some

falling star.

Tap dance; arms

spread out like

eagle wings, making

red talons. Breaking

the silence of my enemy.

Draped across

a parallelogram

clothes line,

shirt shifting

in the

wind and

behind the

cradle of

my heart

I hear

the voices

of the

cosmos playing

out; it

makes me

smile. To

try and

close my

eyes against

the spinning

sun, a

taste of

Heaven's dusting

upon the

tongue, truest

talk in

the sphere;

I wish you

were here.

It's a

hook stop

sale, chattering

patterns in

the living

room; giving

birth to

new wave

stars that

I can

see as

wallpaper on

a distant

galactic run.

Elbow bending, breast

reduced to ash;

blood red smile,

a beautiful gown.

I wish you

could see me,

I want you

to see me.

I'll flood the

carpet with tears

rolling down; I

want you to

love me. Say

that you'll love me.

Haphazardly crushed

in the back of your car;

I know you will fly (with me)

and the impossible

sentencing will be relieved.

The islands on

the moon; where

habitation doesn't hold

and violent habitats

replace the bitter

cold of dead winter.

In ecstasy, I gasp.

But there's

no silence

which can

fill my

void; so

plain as

day, I

react to

this gregarious

ensemble of sound.

The sheet of

fluids, it impales

me; pulses down

my breast. And

I don't know

another name for

God; but even

then with locks

and keys withheld,

I find reason

to dream about

my place among

the stars.

In echoes

from the not-

so-distant past,

I hear her

squeamish laughs;

and in retaliation

my body

sways and I

defend the

darkness I have

held onto. It's

time for

play, and I,

offender, pass

the time remembering

what once

was love's affair.


Eyelids shut,

and I am dreaming

of a golden god.

So trapped in

dynamic parts of

our recovered night;

that daylight passes

and is shaped

into a fiery chasm.

Within myself,

some bluebirds fly;

and hair

is tangled with

the wind,

our locks combined

with seizured

flight to Heaven

It became.

No more memories

of death,

no more deviled

angels to

bestow my

eyes upon.

You see

our fabric

dangle, and our

eyes look

back, directly at

your face. We are

staring at the

sun and moon,

delivering a


you can feel

upon the frigid


that goose pimples

have described.

Pale white

patch; pure

red forgiveness,

mixed with

fury and

the mile.

Hasn't he

forgotten what

my name

was? Before

the calcification

of my

identity wrapped

itself around

my ego's

pole. And

my eyes

speak of



power, and

the truth








A cloud wrapped

around my chin,

and Heaven's planets

made up in

my hair;

eyes wildly




An intoxication of


measure seems

to me to

light the



and so it

goes on, and

we lay down

by the lake

and seek surrender.

White light,

white heat;

a thousand

stings of

Autumn, and

a brush

fire to

tap into

the Hell

of her

umbilical spiral.

Oh! [The

eyes shift

to the


Nipples erect,

and hair

let down;

this is

my crowning


Hear me

sing the

unmelodic hymn

of my

oppression; this

calculated call

of seduction

[is not for you]

Unhinged by

the force

of a

bleeding frenzy;

copulating corpse

who owns

the height

of my inauguration.

I'm bored

of this,

when are

you going to


I've been

Standing here

for the

better half

of the day,

watching you

through the

other side of

The lens;

watching myself

be watched

by the

other side of

the lens.

Face all made up, hair

all made up; mind all

made up, I resent

this looking glass.

In my

unnatural habitat,

to the place

where we

see stars;

In daylight

hours, and

discuss over

coffee the arrangement

of our poetries.

I filtered

out your

language and

your taste,

and left

A dense

subscription to your

down turned eyes;

they were like magic,

setting fire to

the grass you

stood within.

Right to the other,

May the glory

of an

indirect communication

be the ally

in the barber shop.

It's all about cantankerous

remedies; the ones

that show a lich king's

heavenly host as

splendidly as an

undead parasite's

can be;

Take this

as a

sign for future

aims; it's not

my realization that

her cold, wet face

was slipping but

as I sneezed a

fire wrecked

the plaintiff's

house and

I rejoiced.

Trust in twisting fate,

Cords of deadpan

silence was remembered;

In the still

waters of a deep

ocean, we breath

carbon monoxide

and salt water.

Pushing out the

remainder of

a scream;

reducing said

imitation heaven

slurpies as gay

as they are,

the chemicals

plead right away

The slope of

their illusion

So to shore,

to the bridge

of lost, forgotten

houses spun in red;

I sink the ship

and realize I am

not as sentient

as I once thought.

Not for a book or

a record or any-

thing like that,

these syllables

shaken and

poured over the


Violent splatter

paint-- Pollock's

violent dressed

rehearsal, how

can this be mine;

these synonyms

and cages where

the rats are sleeping

in; how can this

be mine,

Have you tried

sucking on

your upper lip?

Does it taste

like it ought to

does it


the silence

with a smile?

Hieroglyphic conceptual

space; an ode

to rites of

passage, these

little boys

beneath their

caves' domes, crying.

Wal-Mart malfunctional


lanes, hideaway

the gain of

self-employment; persecuted

for fashion statements

that exempt myself

from prison; that

exempt me from

the passers by.

Juvenile dancing in

a tutu and

pale purple tights,

revealing everything else

from the waist up.

Theorizing popcorn balls

caked with aluminum panels,

siding sightings; embarrassment at

the bar mitzvah; a

chocolate horse and not

a rabbit down the

hole of this apocalyptic

tale. We end shadows

and begin the courtesy

call to never ending

pain; we see ourselves

as what we have

left of our remains.

Redemption comes

in packets of

100 calories;

each serving contains

an element

of surprise, we

walk on

sandy beaches beneath

a crimson

sunset and everybody

knows the

last note that's

played will

be the end

of their


Forced in platinum

recovery scars

fed like lightning,

to dust

we have become;

only to

regret our futures

and our

transmissive silences. Warned

because of the

sentient life;

extinct stringent smears

of bastardized appointments;

we know you care,

we've left

the building.

The vast cat,

Carpet Purr

for short, she

poisoned the

frogs through the

ventilation shaft;

keeps on

knowing what

the difference is.

We wail

at the wall,

we are


In a concussive

force; the

blind man is


there are no


shadows to hide


only the shimmering

suction of a


thrown out

of place.

Study hall ring-

worm, hiding deep

beneath the bleachers;

waiting for

some kids to



the second law

of thermodynamics

in the outhouse

out back;

staged encyclopedic

buckshot, made cancer

and inherited into

12 forgotten

fairy tales.

You and me,

we're on

different wavelengths;

your feature film


doesn't include a lecture

on mitosis. Happy

Halloween, I missed

you when the

ambulance wheeled

me away.

Four ordinary horses

dressed up

for the apocalypse;

there's clowns

tucking away a

young girl

off to sleep.

Inchworm diabetic sun

reduced to

metamorphic ash;

calm claim catastrophe

at the

sunset of an

empty sky.

Void of parallel

reconstructive surgery,

host has molten

metal for her

diabolic needs.

It is intrusive,

it is

conclusive; it is

fire to

the breath of

make believe.

Dramatical influenza

right above the

left ankle;

forty two scars

to be

remembered by. Dissonant

cat calls;

flying portraits of

women dressed

as birds. As

birds, as


Foreshadowed relationship

in which my

glass cracks;

evidently, you were

there, stringing

pieces of black magic

Against a pitch

black sky.

You’re turning up

sequins and

saints; holding yourself

together for

an hour past

lightning. Cry,

little sister;

in the fort

of our


In its

position among the

heavenly bodies;

white rice as

lunar landings,

and meteor showers

speckling the

cold, methodic plain.

In a Japanese

skillet, oven

off and sleigh

bells ringing

And jing ting

tingaling too.

There once was a backdrop

to the California coast

involving eye shadow,

hoarse meadow style;

Interrupting this

evolutionary step, I

would like

to break the


coarseness just to

say, "here is my

insinuation of a

fly; backdrop

flirting with a

predisposed subpoena."

Plagiarized sunset

a cantaloupe colored

sky, speaking

secrets from the

island in

her mind. I

close case,

bent the needle

some; stepped

out of place.

In order to

reject communication

to transfer radiance

back into

the stars, her

comfort was

what I desired.

Let's not

trigger psychoses,

bend, warp, transmute

time and energy,

planar transmissions

coming across Canada's

stretch; speaking fluent

malformations, cent

signs signaling

the baby has

been delivered.

Curtail consumption

of a mass,

a Sunday propagandist

preparing sea-


An ornithological

cessation of study;

expedience and propaganda,

implied reassociation

of sounds; and

the water level


Ho hum, I

stick my

feet in the

pool, past

surface tension, pop!

I am

an illegitimate child;

running amok

between the back

door and

the pilot light,

weaving my

way into transparency.

An inconsistent smile.

Hydrocortisone inoculation,

Ray Bradbury stole

my humunculus;

daylight brings me

into the

outdoors, and I

am carrying

a staff,

executing environmental safety

precautions. Here

I lie, beneath

the bush;


random ideas that

come to


It's a Whole Foods' agenda

comically crapping

on the inoculation

of my hydrocodone;

this planted fury


into pieces of

sentient matter,

please phase

into the sun;

open the department

store doors.

In the forest

green, she

comes to life

bearing blades,

baring blades,

Her phantasm rises

up to meet

the gods

of death at

the Starbucks

drive through

Open canister of

incandescent paint,

bleeding moons and

stars upon

the pavement.

Four score

and my nieces;

reveling in


Holding me down,

against my will,

back and sides

kicked in.

Everybody wins,

it's a high




Road rage xenophobic

isosceles meter;

gained employment in

the liquor


working from

dusk 'til dawn,

citing metaphorical

transitions, sighting

UFOs in the backyard

of the trailer--

spinning plates

vibrating all the

shadows into

semaphores; show me

how to do

the twist,

like this:

Constant pressure

applied to the

hermaphroditic sores,

upwards of twenty

liters of ecstasy

bottled and

sold for a trip

to an exotic

wasteland by

the sea.


Mesopotamia Cracker

Jacks; old school shark

bait, Jaws sentient

astride an oscilloscope,

foreign lint object

Strife chafes my eye

seems I see the bucket

burning and we all

fall down.

Hopes and truest

senses of

the word, 'PLAY,'

forecasted helio-

troptor besieging

the errendetta;

Moistened marmalade

picks packs of

thrush coated

armadillo hens.

Even though the

iron curtain still stands

draped across our front

yard, there is two

places we can go

to see the Aurora Borealis.

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