Leonnie Dickens's Page

I can love you more richly, or I can survive in this plane of existence
In the end of it all I cannot do both, not in the true sense
The things which draw me to your heart, are the things which made me mortal
There is something necessary in this death, something like thunder
In a time where lightning does not expose shadow. It is in the bonds which we formed
That tether us to any form of being, this selfish desire to have more of me

I cannot explain why it is significant that I choose whether y… Continue

I love you more
than it can possibly be useful
for you to know
And on a level that
is impossible for me to reach
consciously
I do not desire your devotion
I would not know what to do
if you handed me your heart

Without joy and pride
Lacking reciprocity
Self-sustaining, independent
love
with no danger and no passion
having no despair or brilliance
Only a will to you
cold and dull

without electricity
a consonance
so fundamental
that when I awake in the gray morning
It is your mouth that yawns
an… Continue

From where I stand now, it was always a blunder
Blood on hands as prophets die in the uninhabited darkness
Superman was always a rebel, carelessly careening
Into the fierce teal of battle, where the name was made famous
Perhaps that is what heroes do; make the wrong reasons for the right decision
The Last Son only wanted to be consoled for his father’s home

Now I sit in the empty stadium, so far away from home
So far from the places where I proved myself. It is the blunder
Of the time and a foo… Continue

I, In the luminous night
asked Ursa Major
how she has poured patience out
long as her circle has been
have the sons of Zeus finished their hunt
they whose hubris left them sparkling
shined brightly longing for the seven daughters
and unable to come nearer
they all whispered on the void and
told me the story of the others like
me who search them for their beauty
longer than it is sane for a man to do softer
than a morning outline of venus I listen
there is a low hum from them all
have they, in th… Continue

Are those new moons in your eyes?
Uncertain, Wavering, reflective, absent
We need not tarry here
If it be that you cannot hold the light
Under your brows, your luminous hair, your ebon veracity
Then let us flicker away under the crescent
Which haunts and holds us for its own children
We need not tarry here
In this plane, this spectrum, this haphazard reflection
We shine less here than the new moons in your eyes
There is a portly gibbous awaiting us
If we will blaze forth our torches in the wild… Continue