Poetry: Selections From Oliver Baer

61. Another day gone

Leaving my thoughts to ramble on

To a place where mumblers go

Dead leaf words crumpling

Flaking upon themselves

Partial sound reaching out

Only to be swallowed by a significance singularity

My mind has created around you

Its well shadowcasting the other starlit ideas 

Into faint pinpricks

Grains of sand screaming to be noticed

As they are swept over by the tide

Drowning, they are shipped elsewhere to further muddy the waters

The light’s blood darkens as the closet of our lives creaks open

We are not the art piece I hoped

More of a dead collector’s treasure stored in the basement

Tendrils of wear emphasized by damp dust mold line our bodies

So that even caresses fragment

The bare bones of our melody

Bluebeard’s song from another day gone

82. I blame the moon

Belladonna you were

Wide-eyed, spectral lips and pale

Matching the night sky face

Blushing, it pulled clouds in front

To hide its chastity

Having never seen the less than evil we did

This phantom limb memory embraces me

On days like this too

The day face glaring at me

Exposing my wandering heart to you

Every word irradiated milk drunk in haste

Swallowed in gulps to aid its digestion

Shade thrown, finger against lips

A hiss in the ear

“Say something sexy”

A poltergeist in our true love suite

Ghost feet knocking against mine

I promise to sit with you

Today and ever after

Until another comes along

With whom we both can have ghost sex

113. Blue velvet fire walks with me

While the drive burns

Mulling over the holes and gaps

Our head cannot erase

The ash dune we climb

Smoke filling our bodies

The twin peaks of charred house remnants

Clothing us in the burnt matter of others

An elephant man steps from behind the flame curtain

The midget intoning his nonanimal identity

A sickly dance ritual on the air
Backwards rabbit amputees spasming
Their disembodied feet thumping out
The chronicles of this land

Dumb and deaf men flashing their inguinal inland empire

Ants on the lost highway to our ears

The straight story never told to the wild at heart

Images of a big fish gasping out of its bowl

The efreet waits to blaze a pathway to our homes

A tongue flicker ignites their infernal anticipation
A trance ending meditation on being caught in the dream room

 

 

 

 

 

Oliver Baer was the editor for Cthulhu Sex Magazine and Two Backed Books. He mostly writes dark poetry and horror stories with the occasional blog post, review, essay and play. He has two books out, Letters to the Editor of Cthulhu Sex Magazine and Baer Soul. He was the writer for Deena Warner’s Halloween Card project in 2021. He also has a CD of poetry set to music, Gathering Souls by A Conclave of Baer, which became a show in NYC.