I have found a season which exists
between New England's winter and spring,
in late March or early April.
You will know it by the bleeding of colors
in the sky at dusk (the orange cream,
the flush of pink, the blue-powdered
lavender) when all the clouds
misplace their edges.
You will ease your body down
into grass damp with what remains
of winter's moisture. Let your eyes
become a mirror for what lies above you:
the ethereal atmosphere.
The trees will reach up with a thousand
grasping fingers, all craving the silk
of the sky, and you will stretch out
your own limbs, unable to resist
the desperate urge to touch.
Feb 16, 2011
Feb 16, 2011 at 5:58 PM UTC
believing,
it seems to me,
is the root of all knowing,
for what i have found
is worth far more than all i have lost.
what i once took for granted,
i now embrace each day,
like a breath of frigid air
on a morning laced with ice.
you magnetize me into
delight so deep and dark.
you are swirling, yes,
with all the light of things unknown.
all of you, which i have pulled
from dreaming
to become the reality beneath
the heavy lids that open to wonder,
enchantment; surely you know,
for your spell is natural
as the garden which flourishes
in your heart, planting sunlight
and bittersweet promises,
too much for a wanderer to behold.
yet he stops and stares,
as do i, for the day breaks
as surely as you will.
far more than this: soften
your edge to fit with mine.
Jan 19, 2011
Jan 19, 2011 at 10:10 AM UTC
If not for words, would we still have questions?
Could we think, if our language was lost?
I sense a change already, falling backwards,
forever plummeting from a higher elevation,
too afraid to open my eyes.
If not for breath, would we still have air?
Will life grow and change with a lack of oxygen?
As my lungs expand, my eyelids raise slowly,
but as always, I see only what I wish to see,
too afraid to face the ****** of truth.
The moon is my ghost, as I land softly
I leave no footprints on its cratered surface.
One question at a time, one breath after the other.
Though I am no magician, I sense there is magic:
There is life all around me, holding me up.
Jan 17, 2011
Jan 17, 2011 at 10:31 AM UTC
i do not imagine it is a crime or you
are a criminal, i do however question
why you bothered to use that one call
on me.
barshadows on your face remind me
i do not wish to visit again or spend another
moment with my eyes to the floor, your
concrete hellhole.
i have never been that type, never once
made a promise i couldn't keep, also known as
i do not make promises and i do not
break bonds.
and yet i will say my goodbyes when i know
the end is inevitable, for isn't it always? and
even further: i have no wish to spend eternity
with you.
Dec 30, 2010
Dec 30, 2010 at 4:36 PM UTC
Je suis jeune, ou c’est ce qu'ils me disent,
Jeunes et capable, sauvage et libre;
Mes os ne craquent pas sous le vent.
Je suis folle, c'est ce qu'ils disent,
Folle de croire vos mots cassés,
Mais vous étiez jeune une fois aussi.
Je suis seule et ils ne manquent jamais d'avis,
Seule, oui, mais jamais trop seule.
La tasse était à moitié pleine quand nous nous sommes rencontrés.
Je suis ce que je me dis:
joyeuse aujourd'hui, envieuse demain,
et en ce moment, juste une fille coincée entre deux.
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 3:11 PM UTC
skyline dance -
distorted rhythms and do i
only imagine your
hip against mine as
we press flowers into each
others' palms?
weave ourselves like
sand in constant shift
trembling heart you hold
it out do i take it?
i take it.
winter knocks -
you never answer and
i locked the door last night
again and you cried.
you said we are only
growing older and we are
not children anymore.
but you still smile like you
did when we were both
six with gaps in our teeth
and bruises all over
our beaten bodies.
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 6:20 PM UTC
it's been two years now,
and i am not getting any younger, you know.
still smoking two packs a day,
yes i'm aware i'm my biggest problem.
but i still blame you
and the silence of the phone,
the absence of you calling at 3am,
just to say **** you, go to sleep."
i got scared and i clung to you;
that's all there is to it.
no details to fill in, no ending to determine.
it was over before it even began, how typical, i thought.
still i think your voice could ease the pain
of early morning hangovers that last all day,
and the silent screams i muffle with each inhale.
**** you, go to sleep.
Sep 4, 2010
Sep 4, 2010 at 11:18 AM UTC
the lion pack traveling side
by side, though not evenly;
colliding shoulder to shoulder
territorial and instinctual.
trying to tame the manes
beneath logo-baring headgear,
hoping to hide soulful eyes
behind dark shades of plastic.
clothing loose to make up
for skin too tight, laughter
bouncing off cement and
rubber sneaker soles.
that musky scent of male
mingling with each individual
mixture of hopes and dreams
hits me in full force, leaving me
at a standstill long after the last
of you has passed me by.
Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 4:59 PM UTC
this love is a curse,
a ship lost in unruly waters.
this love is cruel as steel:
we both taste of metal.
i broke no bones in this body
when our rope snapped, taut,
yet the quake of bitter reason
shocked both you and i to truth.
we cannot survive as one,
nor as one outside the other.
this love is a charging bull,
the scarlet flare of sorrow.
bending on two pairs of knees,
even the sky smells of earth.
this love is wretched, numbing.
without it, we would not feel at all.
Aug 13, 2010
Aug 13, 2010 at 4:57 PM UTC
summer provides a different sort of grass,
the sort that thickens into a virescent mattress for the weary body.
we drop down hard with heavy-weight souls tonight.
cricket chorus sings me to slumber, your grip is firm,
and the breeze swirls the stars above our heads so still, so calm.
but i must confess: i can no longer write these words for you.
fall will always ****** summer into a blackened passion bed,
and your eyes which mirrored mine are now quick to shut me out.
a farewell to a friend is not quite the same, you see,
as a farewell to a friend-turned-lover - there is no objective.
just an unfinished canvas,
paint slapped over the ever-present question mark.
Jul 31, 2010
Jul 31, 2010 at 8:19 AM UTC