Tag Archives: Nicholaus Patnaude


24 Dec


There’s a certain amount of love
left in the juice jar
nobody in, nobody out
but left up to the feet
on the ceiling in doubt

to be here in colds
as eternally an open window
to the blind guest
in streaking
this halo of flies
riddled to the spine stitches
steam blows us off of
carrying us to warm
washcloth storms
to harm the charm of us
a bony harp
cutlass wind
patina of evil
coasts above
sea-thorn coasts
everything you knew
the choice you put away
a diorama of poverty
clipped pinkies
ringed your coat
and walked away
on chalk-outline together.

Elizabeth von Dracula #1 has been unleashed

21 Oct

A comic book I recently finished. It’s about 100 pages and contains 4 sequential art stories: “Blum Island,” “Pig Princess,” “Commuter’s Dream,” and “In Thy Kingdom.” Price is 5 bux plus 3 bux shipping for the literal double issue of Elizabeth von Dracula #1. Hopefully, a Paypal button is appearing below for you if you are into snagging a copy.

Sold out

“Mask Fashion”

6 Sep

“Mask Fashion”

Through scarlet crypts
of poinsettias
this beloved headdress
turns a threadbare page, a flint mark
to blow this blouse
another story for your years
another sash,
another primrose, marked one
chalet and lipstick, goblins
tantamount to nothing
abandoned swing sets,
bubblegum in your hair
for this the angelic
coals with their wings
a rare promise
with the rise of your belabored health
belabored breathing
at last the mentally cured cyclone
rinse with me.


5 Sep


Why are you so far away?
What ails you?
Where have all our children gone?
Are there pewter tulips?
A joy from the past keeps shaded,
stays alive,
wrings jewels and nips from bent towels.

Weather may come to cast,
and yet this ailing is a missing you,
a supplanted grove,
a cool and warm desire
is what ails you,
a tinker box which rubs the dock
the green bottle of ale for you
because the forgotten is heartbroken
but the joy is safe.


4 Sep


He ate a can of tuna fish at lunch
in the shed where we laughed spilt sides
his mom was a drunk
she showed up in her bathrobe one day
pissed flames beside her car
oblivious of us
somehow maybe the cocky
might turn to sparrows
be free at last of us and all the chins
or maybe he stopped eating tuna fish
directly from the can
maybe he went down his own dark road
down on his lucky own tuned knees
his touch of certainty a stretch
his youth a pissed ant
his smile the friend of a shadow.

“Nobody Gets to be a Poet”

3 Sep

“Nobody Gets to be A Poet”

At the mill town
toffee by a tossed hand in stained glass
coffee by the midst of mornings
these are your purse’s strings
covered by the overalls of oil
to come on time at once at peace teatime
on my bread delivery
they say it was the river killed you
we lie in a bed of blue roses
in music you felt something natural
it was in the way you arched your back, broken strength is being afraid
your spiritual own home
baked in bread
with the insects of girlhood
because of something you said or hid.

“Roaming Light”

22 Jul

“Roaming Light”

There is roaming light across the floor
to say goodbye when our gold buckles
to be bucked from horses in soft dirty
boot buckles, because of the treasures
we found in the attic: the primal scene
enacting the tailbone;
tadpoles preserved, side by side,
for centuries in a glass tube
these were the human-shaped shadows
you used to run away with
the bell in your teeth, even during floods
matchboxes must sail away,
tugging at tigers as you tumbled
pulling patches for poor people,
the poor, poor people, witness to youth
and tomcats bribe another bride
shaking, because whiskers glow
these movements
automatic as gestures
beside the hot reek of horse piss
we were always your only girlfriend.

“Miles Away”

18 Jul

“Miles Away”

The moment a snake strikes
to slap a snake striking gurgling oil
you are gone, miles away.
And to turn off this turnstile for high pitch ribbon, miles away, this scream rises.
And to be gone, mermaid speaking,
just miles away, mermaid humming.
We can’t heart you underwater which is licked why we call our song “Miles Away,” a mermaid’s bubble pressure,
which is insincere, in a sense,
and all bird beaks grow rotten in lye
from more
and a mermaid pleasure mumbling
which is why we delicately rest your head
on a sheet of glass, to be careful
with the sheen of mermaid fish legs
exist in carefully liquid bones
razor, to be formed and then on & on
for miles
away a dream at dawn
waving why.

“Wandering Around an Old House”

16 Jul

“Wandering Around an Old House”

To believe in its miracles,
the forthright structure,
the beams of memory,
shrugged shoulders of light
in hateful corners,
crouching after midnight
lying under lie detectors smoking
with bullseyes and wasps
the ghosts kindly speak us,
their kisses hold no memories
so when we moved
the house left the earth,
unmoored, a spell spooling
bedeviled, betoken, bespoke:
it all happed yesterday
for whose fevers
we’re still leaning sharper icicles.

“Somewhere in the Sun of Sonnet Rays”

21 Apr

“Somewhere in the Sun of Sonnet Rays”

A lazy breath will clear
and breastbone
leave the deserted stone
beneath smooth waters
call us back
there’s checked coats in phone booths
and you are sheer and shimmering
and you are the gloved boots
the tousled hair
the midnight goblins riding for a final raid
for all the trendsetters are looting
and whatever we bake
crumbles in oven mitts.