It is not pretentious to write about death
Death is in everything, it is in this cup
It is as common as a cauliflower.
Is it pretentious to write about a cauliflower?
I miss my mother and my brother
There have been no funerals
But they are sadly gone
Though people with the same names walk about the house and do the washing up, talk about the gardening and the bow and arrow they just made
These new ones are nice, and fun
But I resent them, for not being the mother and brother I knew
For dying so quietly, without telling me
In came sadness through the back door, and flooded
I miss my mother and brother
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 11:39 AM UTC
I am a dip on the wide, soft earth.
All forgotten what I'm for now, but I remember birth.
What am I?
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 11:36 AM UTC
A forest moving fast across the sea
You barely see me, yet I help you see
What am I?
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 11:32 AM UTC
Sometimes I do doubt my love for you
I think, will mine be true? will yours be long?
But when I sleep and when I really wake with you
I know that we are friends
I love our song
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 11:35 AM UTC
Forget it. Whatever you want
My dear. I'll spend it alone or on foot.
I'll go see some other fine lover, my dear
Don't think that I wouldn't. I could.
Oh early next month would be super, my dear
A holiday. No, no time at all
To wait. I'm terribly busy now, dear
Stay up in the hills. (Come home)
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 7:01 PM UTC
*********** is wax and paper,
your love for me is kindling,
others have been oak.
and now my chest is full of ash
so roll me a cigarette
while i wait for the phoenix to rise
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 5:58 PM UTC
You love me like a child loves the light.
You love me like a fire burning kindling;
All too bright.
You love me, plum, and now the light is falling
Should I sleep? I'd only dream
I saw you
Wakeful, love , and whispering out the door.
Feb 11, 2012
Feb 11, 2012 at 5:25 PM UTC
When all is rain and sun and gold and lost
And nothing holds for nothing
fold my heart.
It will not wander longer in the Fall
than this sweet summer moon of wanting
Id hang my heart upon a hook of brass
And leave it be a while if I could
Or put it cool inside a chest, or basket
Or give it rest from what it should
be doing, feeling this or that
or loving here,but heres the way it is:
while chaos kings with thundry wings
my heart will sing out loud
and i do dream of you
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 10:30 AM UTC
cup my breast
dont move, just hold your hand, hold
there. its enough
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 10:09 AM UTC
being older
i am only browner and more solid
more clogged
weights drag at face and heart and ****
oof, age
like a badger in the belly
growls and nuzzles
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 8:51 AM UTC