Luke J. Holt Poems

I know my killer
I let her in my bed
and offered her half
[A weapon]
...

Boredom is mostly
a feeling of wanting something more than breathing
but having no idea what to call it.
She said she had never been bored
...

My fear of beauty is fear of being cast in ruby
Jealousy's foggy emerald is its own bedlam
At least an urchin knows to avert his eyes to the floor
When the Odelisks take to the plaza
...

I've been thinking in bubbles for years
And have not a moment to lose
I've already lost so many
My past like a swamp or old soup sitting out old and distilling
...

I was a goose for a while
But every boy sits back down
And forfeits his wreaths to the next fowl bird
Returns to patient duckhood
...

Hate in the parrot's branch.
Smells like yours or others
Compete for dominance in the den where certain pulses hit the walls instead
Feelings that tread off the end
...

Reach with me
To off where the grey of cyborgs is the skin
Where heart and iron wrought
Aluminium mushroom
...

The templar knights with charring toes and melting soles on boots of woe march North towards the bridge
Battalions of moths flank in trails like bridal music
Making themselves bandages when the coals sputter upwards in scornful boils.
We walk this expanse
...