Caveat:
This has been written to disturb you.
Invitation:
Summon your personal incarnation of this figure into your mind’s eye and look through it like a lens while you’re reading this.
Continue readingArchive for poetry
‘…Just Don’t Put It on the Internet.’
Posted in Pretensions toward cultural theory, Reading with tags blog, Instagram, Internet, no filter, poetry, Rainer Maria Rilke, Robert Graves, social media on December 15, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle
Blankness of a Clock Face
Posted in poetry, sonnet with tags clock face, poetry, sonnet on August 30, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle
Your stride faltered in hesitation as
The young man held the door to let you pass
His face eclipsed by yours – a brief reflection
His eyes stalled by yours within the glass
I’d hoped to catch this moment in the mirror
Rising from the lines upon my face
But read the time less from standing figures
Than from the way you spanned the empty space
This morning’s spectre of your fragrant heat
Attendant to your body’s pooling shadow
Trickles through the reef of cotton sheet as
A frigid breeze rattles the open window
I kiss your neck, then disappear from sight
You turn to face the weeping winter light
Share this:
(I think) She Might Be Crying
Posted in poetry, sonnet with tags poetry, sonnet on April 28, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle
The floor to ceiling hotel window is
A lidless, depthless, staring midnight eye
The bed’s reflection breaks along its gaze
Sheets rolling in a long, disordered line
Face down, the weave of hair conceals her face
As tattered heart’s words tumble to the carpet
I am complicit: dumb, and blunt and hard
Plumbing a womb of shit and barren darkness
Later: scrutinised by bathroom light
Sitting naked with my head in hands
Marooned in a field of arid, empty white
Revealed to be the object that I am
Next door: drooling, drunk and stoned and slurring
Maybe, words (I think) she might be crying
Share this:
Choke (2)
Posted in poetry, sonnet, violence against women with tags choke, poetry, sex, sonnet on February 2, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle
The sting in my hand from where I’ve struck her
The welt that’s swiftly rising on her thigh
The mark glaring through its suntanned lustre
The bolt of pain that taints her almond eye
The sweat that gathers in her dusky creases
The body that’s knotted like a rope
The sigh that’s strangled and abruptly ceases
The chin slick with saliva as she chokes
Blinking eyes that swim with sweat that’s searing
Relentless, I drive past lips, teeth and tongue
Her eyes bulge, mascara-smeared and teary
I feel the edge of teeth before I come
Gagging, she spits and tears a breath of air
Spent, sated and slaked, I can hardly care.
Share this:
Choke (1)
Posted in poetry, sonnet, violence against women with tags choke, poetry, sex, sonnet on January 23, 2020 by Jarrod Boyle
The sting in my hand from where I’ve struck her
The welt that’s swiftly rising on her thigh
The mark that’s glaring through its suntanned lustre
The bolt of pain that taints her almond eye
The sweat that gathers in dusky creases of
The body that’s knotted like a rope
The sigh that’s strangled and abruptly ceases
The chin slick with saliva as she chokes
Supine, the curtains of her belly part
And she’s inhaling sharply through her nose
Relentless, I drive up towards her heart
While turning like a dragon’s embryo
She gasps, and groans, ‘I feel you everywhere’
So I take hold and pull her silky hair.
Share this:
You Rang Me Like A Bell
Posted in Love letters, poetry with tags beauty, poetry on January 22, 2019 by Jarrod Boyle
You rang me like a bell.
I lie on my back with the night pressed against my face
And the images resonate one after another –
Lying propped on your elbow in the eddies of the sheets
Looking at your bare ass as you’re bent over packing your suitcase
Prowling the footpath beside me with high-heeled precision
Reaching up inside you toward the depths of where you dream
Share this:
Sara’s Geometry
Posted in poetry with tags poetry, yoga on April 26, 2018 by Jarrod Boyle
She comes among us
where we are marooned on mats
She passes through the ocean of whiteness
dressed in olive and black Continue reading
Share this:
Her Absence
Posted in Love letters, poetry, Pornography with tags August Ames, poetry on April 19, 2018 by Jarrod Boyle
Her absence
luscious and pendulous
rhythmic and sussurant
respires beside me in the darkness Continue reading
Theme Park at its Darkest 