ECKate: Favorites

Feb 2014 ECKate

P.K. Page

In love they wore themselves in a green embrace.
A silken rain fell through the spring upon them.
In the park she fed the swans and he
whittled nervously with his strange hands.
And white was mixed with all their colours
as if they drew it from the flowering trees.

At night his two finger whistle brought her down
the waterfall stairs to his shy smile
which like an eddy, turned her round and round
lazily and slowly so her will
was nowhere—as in dreams things are and aren't.

Walking along avenues in the dark
street lamps sang like sopranos in their heads
with a voilence they never understood
and all their movements when they were together
had no conclusion.

Only leaning into the question had they motion;
after they parted were savage and swift as gulls.
asking and asking the hostile emptiness
they were as sharp as partly sculptured stone
and all who watched, forgetting, were amazed
to see them form and fade before their eyes.

Feb 2014 ECKate

Blood Mountain (Another Sacred Gift)

Feb 2014 ECKate

Jonny Angel

Blood Mountain (Another Sacred Gift)

I love my early morning hikes
in the Georgian-woods,
where alone
I glide along,
my feet carrying me
through the zephyr-mists,
upward on the granite stairway
into the disappearing stars
& onto the bald-summit.

Happily,
I stand exposed
on another sacred-peak,
one of God's gifts
for wayward hikers,
smiling.

Feb 2014 ECKate

The Stolen Heart

Feb 2014 ECKate

Seth Connor Jackson

The Stolen Heart

I used to be a thief
Stealing through the woods
The stars were all that saw me
Your chair ever rocking
From where I used to sit
Where I will never sit again
Memories of the old hammock
A place I will also never see again
Now the moon shines streaks of silver
Reminding me of you
Your head, your eyes, your lips, your nose
I see them all reflected
As clearly as could be
In this wild forest
There is only me and you
The sky, deep red
Fog makes it hard to see
It’s not your heart I stole, I realize
As I see it’s you I hold

Jan 2014 ECKate

Secondhand Smoke

Jan 2014 ECKate

Alyssa

Secondhand Smoke

You were as stealthy as a slow gas leak, by the time i knew i was in love with you, i had succumbed to you. You were in the drivers seat of my car lighting a cigarette with the windows up so i could breathe you in. I quit smoking so your secondhand smoke was all you would allow. I watched as you brought the cigarette to your lips and dragged in as if your life depended on it. It was your third one today and i told you that you should stop, maybe breathe me in for a second. Do you know what i would give to become second hand smoke from your lips? All you would have to do is kiss me and i would vanish into thin air, become a noble gas in the periodic table but there is nothing noble about the element of disappearance. I have been shrinking away from you ever since you held my hand in that convenience store a year ago. I'm trying to convince myself to get over you because all i am to you is someone to **** slowly through your second hand smoke. I never knew I could get so addicted to nicotine until it came from under your tongue. When you're gone, it's hard for me to breathe which doesnt make sense because when youre here my lungs are filled with your sweet black tar. But you will be gone for months when you leave in two weeks. You said you'd write to me, but written words can't carry your second hand smoke. You can't build a home out of a human being, but that doesn't mean i cant find a home in your bed.

Jan 2014 ECKate

For Ellen:

Jan 2014 ECKate

Aarya

For Ellen:

If I could,
I would pick up my ink pen
and drown an ocean into you
instead of drowning you in it.
Extract these rotting feelings
for the sake of your ignorance.
Carve scriptures into each delicacy of your brain
so you wouldn’t have to dwell in such misery every day.
Wire faith
to your blemished heart.
Imbue purity
to your sullied soul.
If I could,
I would write you through all depths of insanity
without any harm
so that your
mind no longer persists the thought of death.
There was a time I thought you were dead.
Only you were painted red
in a black and white world.
Like you have been walking barefoot on a broken road
your whole life.
Your demons imitate life
And life imitates the demons.
You are the one being tied down by invisible, nonexistent chains.
So unaccepting of help that has come for you
Watch
the sun touch the horizon
reach the meeting of sun and ground
and
Find further still,
The limits you would like to reach only run from you.
You have such a murderous tongue
for society
people.
But one day I hope to see you write yourself into existence
Rather than to let yourself drown in it.
Why has you dying become something so habitual?
Darling, death is not a friend of yours
Nor are you a friend of his.
But I know of your frequent dates with death
Tell me
Does his neck feel like happiness
And do his lips relieve you of your suffocation
Now
are you lost?
or are you found?
Do you recognize the irony
Of the most terrifying things happening in the most angelic places
Charm yourself upon that bridge
Whose lights light up the city in golden arrays
With a glazed look
you’d think.
In sadness seen go by
You are charmed by either war or hope.
These occurred robberies have taken much
But they left opportunity
Important people
And a moon in your window
A future that only you know the ending of
And a slice of the midnight sky.
So it goes.

Jan 2014 ECKate

Untitled

Jan 2014 ECKate

PK Wakefield

Untitled

inside bed
groans i can
hear the rain outside
painfully wintering and
the shifts covers her (the hands between)
sighing erupt palefully spiders incandescent
the notmoon doesn't its light and outside i can hear
the rain(painfully)

i can hear

(and outside)

painfully it's rain

(and wintering)

i can hear.

Jan 2014 ECKate

Untitled

Jan 2014 ECKate

PK Wakefield

Untitled

miles away(go)
by

clicktrain by

clacktrain or

bybusby or

car

miles away(go)
where between
a city of roses grows

One thornless rose)its
stemwhich
thoughthornless
hurts to feel fingers

Jan 2014 ECKate

Untitled

Jan 2014 ECKate

PK Wakefield

Untitled

i think you are beautiful
(and why not?) the sea
is beautiful

(as like your eyes(
where between they reach:

(somewhere dark)

somewhere wet.