Brijit Reed

typical occipital division of vision solar, bipolar sight unseen skeptical, pivotal turning points, pointing, spinning dervishing ghosts whirling, twirling through the past and the present riveting audiences with divoted minds blind-sighted, divided pitted by sorrow and pain hearts of high caliber bullets and bulleted trains of thought more lack than luster in Life jaws set uneven by slanted teeth and tongues forked, serrated belatedly falling still, so still better forever than never they can feel the ridges of their fingerprints upon dark matter initiations, graduations of revolutions and evolutions revolving,…read more

weeping willow’s spines sink into claywhere Mother Earth cradles her feet,rooting them into the grass and dirt,washing their souls in her tearsand perfuming them with unguentsscented with the fragranceof lavender and sweet briarsso pleasing to Father. Father Sky strokes her lacy crowns,nourishing her from his sunny blue cloak,his honeyed light shiningdowndowndownand flowing through herpithy channels, estuaries, and rivers,protecting her and lavishing herwith exquisite elixirspoured upon her thirsty tongues,nourishing and healing her fleshes and barks. she drinks Father’s Sky’s sun downdowndown,where it’s consumed by Mother Earth’s love,conceiving beauty in her heartand bearing such…read more

there’s that smoky jazz club with its aubergine walls and golden arabesque scrolls adorning them, its tinkling glassware and hushed conversations, its muted trumpet and delicate piano, its drums beating a soft and slow rhythm in complement with the bass standing upright in the corner of the stage. reclining at the table in a verdant green and velvet dress, ruby teardrops suspended from ears and neck, sipping amethyst cordials from a miniature gold chalice, head tilted back, gazing up at the glass arcade with the stars shining through. scaling the…read more

there i sat, mournful, cloaked in gray, my hand clinging to the boat as i grieved the loss of the things that were never borne. the glowing moon cleaved the gloom, casting its pearly light upon the brackish lake, shining upon my beauty, my wisdom, and my power– lifeless– on the skiff’s blackened bottom. i closed my eyes and saw profane dreams filled with the monsters and things fashioned by my own hands as they tugged, and they drug me down and down and down. yet i breathed and i…read more

i hear the lyrics in the song  of belonging that isn’t sung by brutal lips or dissembling tongue. they go, “sister, sister, don’t cry. the world wasn’t meant to be perfect. it’s an ever-changing chrysalis– a limitless butterfly. lift your leaden wings and fly… weathered, untethered, severed, unfettered from the anchoring sorrow still trying  to tug you to the ground. together– apart– surrender– resistance– there’s really no distance between the sun  and the light in your heart.”

my love is big enough for you– no matter what you do. i’ll turn into a star and shine for you, just for loving you– no matter what you do, because my love for you– and everyone else i see– is unconditionally reflected by me.

i wish you cloudbursts of laughter forever now  in this moment and infinitely after, this life  and this Life.   take a deep breath and hold it, releasing and rebirthing it into  this succulent earth  and delicious mortal coil,  mulching the spirit into maiden, mother, crone, maiden, mother, crone,  in this Life and this Life and this Life.

walk-walking  ambulating everywhere– pitch-pitching,  plummeting here, hurt-hurtling there with the quirking jerks– the jerking quirks– the spinning whirls  whirling and twirls that send me  through fields of possibilities and spasms that sometimes  make me bleed from the head– sometimes the eyes, the ears, the mouth– and the heart instead. la bouche bouching, the masticate masticating, the French frenching, the kiss kissing, the touch touching– gaping maw mawing, chewing us up– spitting us out.  mouthful of electricity coursing forcibly through my nerves of their own volition– will willing  to reconstruct structures…read more

teeth breaking flesh, blood orange juice bursting, dripping down my chin, wine-colored tear-stains blossoming on my skin. peeling, bleeding, feeling freeing– fragrant jelly-red blood cells and bittersweet strips of endocarp flaying from my bruised and ripened heart, clotting, spilling seeds onto the ground to sow and regenerate, refresh and invigorate– warm and pulpy flesh once more.

i’m in the backseat, propping my tiny bare feet on the window of daddy’s Pontiac. i watch as the clouds and telephone poles outside create flickering patterns of light and shadows inside the car as we hurtle down the highway. my stomach churns from the smell of wet dog and stale cigarettes. daddy’s loud percussive shouting and the motion of the wheels on the pavement drive my unease deeper. i feel sick. i can’t wait to be home, where i can sit alone outside in the silent, still, and immaculate…read more