Soul Soot Poetry

#poetry, #prose

i know you long to be the gentle seduction,

the sunny disposition

those purple painted passages

of spring

but you’re too violent to be a violet November

too much death and night

in your blood

enchanted energy

oh so tempting

you are the fall

your words

standing naked in Eden

daring to look down without shame

at who they truly are

skin and scale

you are the apple

poison in your blood

a bored and jealous

love

a serpent-heart held

between legs

the curiosity

the longing

the pseudo bravery stupidity

the humility and the savery

you are the whole damned story

~A.M. Troester, November (Soul Soot Poetry)

inside

there is love and war

how long until the good soldiers fall

how long until all my teeth fall out

summon great winds and ocean

a tsunami to wash away

the ceaseless, senseless battles

humility and silence remain

i remember to pray

that the best words aren’t mine

inside

there is starfall and bloodfire

dreams gripping hope

like mothers protecting children

hurry up with the living

hurry up with the dying

there’s no safety in the unknowing

~A.M. Troester, Inside (Soul Soot Poetry)

you planted words in me

a great forest grew

an entire Teribethia

of hands and teeth

of want and need

an ugly autumn

drought stole beauty

from death

there was fever

i could not control

fire in love with leaf

burning books

inside of me

beloved

songs, words, trees

pleading

in flame

nothing too sacred

to save

and still there is pain

held in the scars

of once favorite things


i skinned the trees

you grew for me

and made this book

it has sap for blood

splinters for teeth

and a binding stronger

than backbone

able to carry the weight

of death

~A.M. Troester, A Teribethia of Teeth and Need (Soul Soot)

her love is for the birds

lost messengers

missing magnetite

searching true north

in the dead of night

the wild canaries

a shock of yellow madness

in dirty skies, dim dreams

of home and stratus

mockingbirds who sing

when they should sleep

who do not listen

when they speak

her love is for the birds

red-winged ancestor migrants

cornucopia feathered pheasants

a rainbow mud mess

father field dressed

robin mothers

blue jay brothers

her reflection

in the seared dark

iridescence

of crows

her love is for the birds

mary’s geese calling soft and harsh

in rush hour traffic

reminding her she was made

for more than static

his love is for the trees

red sugar maples

who bleed leaves

for his feet

red oak on the hill

shares his blood

and his will

in its bones and its root

a legacy to be born

the promise of white oak

in the death of an acorn

her love is for the birds

the birds are for the trees

the birds with the leaves are leaving

but your love is waiting

~A.M. Troester, For the Birds (Soul Soot Poetry)

you

a library

of my favorite books

your body

my church

touching you

my favorite prayer

you

a scared smell of

soap and sex and incense

you

the stars raining bright in a dark sky

giving the anxious ocean a nightlight

of wonder and beauty

your voice

a warm blanket

calming and keeping me safe

your eyes

the great knowers

truth tellers

our keepers

their resin melting on each

memory of us,

turning them to amber

in adoration or in dismissal,

in inspiration or in deprivation,

in reverence or in curse,

in front of all the lost and founds

i cry out, I Love You

in you, i believe again

you give me God

our love, one flesh

apart

let no man,

not even you or me,

tear us

~A.M. Troester, Giving God (A Muse’s Aspirations)