miles mean nothing to a heart that is pure
words penned in grace, sent to ether
give heartease to the overstretched
sowing stiches of understanding
in tapestry threadbare

little suns and stars
shining bright in love and hope
from face unseen and adirondack chair
gives strength to one down, from down under
allows grief, the words needed the abilty to care
for these simple gifts, no payment required
from the heart open to care...

The trick is that you have to let her know she’s holding the strings
You can’t play hard to get
You have to give your all, leave your wounds open for the salt to be poured in
Cause that’s what it’s all about!
It’s about being defenseless with that one person,
Letting them crawl under your skin
Cause if it’s true, they’ll be the first to pull out the first aid kit
And you may think that letting them hold your strings is a wicked thing
But in the end,
Those strings that they’re holding..
Are the stiches they use to pull you back together

Malleable emotions born to a broken hearted teddy bear
Teddy's stitches stretch with age
The clock on the wall becomes his countdown
As time moves forward, Teddy is forced to watch children's attentions pull back
The rocking horse asked Teddy what he thought about the children rudely leaving them to gather dust
Teddy just smiled
His beaded eyes glimmering through the windows sunset, a few stickers to block the rays
Teddy knew the children were moving on to better things
Because if the world shoved them down
Teddy would be there to soften the blow

Be still. The words I thought of when you were ill. I prayed with you every night, then God let me feel your heartbeat. Time was collecting your bloodflow. Heartbeat. Repeat, repeating the pain I felt that day when cousin' came in and said,"God took your mother up today."I was nine years old. You died about two weeks before my birthday. All I got was, packed up cardboard boxes with scotched taped ribbon that glistened in the sun as we made room for it in storage. Stored heartbeats. No one could take your place. The sad thing is I barely remember your face. Chemo. You had to take all those tests, and in the end they still cut off your left breast. Heartbeat. Time finally took your breath. Time ended our time. Why was it that after you died the doctor's found a cure to this genocide? I wish you were still here by my side. I was your baby. I asked the doctor if you were going to live, and all I got was, "maybe." Maybe you might come back someday. You used to appear all the time but then you drifted away. Heartbeat. I saw you laying in red. That red that, filled my eyes with hopelessness. I wished that red were still hanging in your closet in the dry cleaners bag, and the your aroma were in the stiches. After 7 years, I still can't believe you're dead. Even though you're not here, I think about you everydat. I ask a question that every child asks. "Why did God take my mother away?" Heartbeat. Time has finished this poem.

She gives him his eyes, she found them
Among some rubble, among some beetles

He gives her her skin
He just seemed to pull it down out of the air and lay it over her
She weeps with fearfulness and astonishment

She has found his hands for him, and fitted them freshly at the wrists
They are amazed at themselves, they go feeling all over her

He has assembled her spine, he cleaned each piece carefully
And sets them in perfect order
A superhuman puzzle but he is inspired
She leans back twisting this way and that, using it and laughing
Incredulous

Now she has brought his feet, she is connecting them
So that his whole body lights up

And he has fashioned her new hips
With all fittings complete and with newly wound coils, all shiningly oiled
He is polishing every part, he himself can hardly believe it

They keep taking each other to the sun, they find they can easily
To test each new thing at each new step

And now she smoothes over him the plates of his skull
So that the joints are invisible

And now he connects her throat, her ******* and the pit of her stomach
With a single wire

She gives him his teeth, tying the the roots to the centrepin of his body

He sets the little circlets on her fingertips

She stiches his body here and there with steely purple silk

He oils the delicate cogs of her mouth

She inlays with deep cut scrolls the nape of his neck

He sinks into place the inside of her thighs

So, gasping with joy, with cries of wonderment
Like two gods of mud
Sprawling in the dirt, but with infinite care
They bring each other to perfection.

Wilted flower,* ageless in
A time of *frailty, never wishing
For her glow to fade, but
Every flower wilts over time.

She was weak in sympathy
Seeing everyone though her
Outer shell was, of ill taste,
Souring there eyes.

So those of younger skin she
Spat upon in hated gestures,
Until she could not see beauty,
Only those having what had
Faded upon her over time.

She was a seamstress of cloth,
Fashion was in her eyes, beauty
For beauty now all was bland
As her image tainted, She was
Upon a plan.

She would take beauty from those
Unworthy souls, who abused the
Gift for it should be collected,
Harvested, so began her crime.

The first was a nose, cut off still
Breathing jagged edges ruined.
She slashed upon beauty as stillness
Settled in there eyes. Like a canvass
Now ruined, ugly in her sight,
Discarded in to the river the fishes
Feasting upon her crime.

She harvested, parts each dead
for moments but stillness brought
precision, each  flawless gem, with
Precise loops each part fell in to place.

She only needed one more ,the lips
So delicate, so fragile. She carved
So many kisses from the bodies,
But never the correct, impatient
She became, enraged with failures.

Her moments of rage, became news.
"The patch work doll"
"The seamstress of beauty"
She liked this name for beauty
Was a puzzle that she stitched
Together to hide the ugly inside.

Then upon those fated moments,
"Excuse me do you know the"
Her mind forgot to listen, transfixed
Upon those ruby gems, Yes ill
Show you the way.
"Thank you mam"
Ill fated beauty, single breathes to
Take. These where her jewels of
Her crown as each most delicately
Removed, stored so not to break.

The patchwork was finished, hideous
Monstrosity of flesh dead, but she
Revelled upon her creation. Missing
The point that she was only faded inside.

She wore this mask, the seamstress of
Beauty now wore the blood of others
Upon her face, each was a life taken
For this moment in the mirror, she
Looked upon in happiness, in joy
Of others pain, but the moment faded.

All she saw was others, her beauty hidden
Upon the stiches of others face, she
Couldn't see herself only the faces of
Each life she did take. The lips moved
Spoken words upon this face, you want
This beauty take it cut it with the knife.

She cut upon this mask, deep cuts
Upon her own self, the mask fell
To the floor, spare parts of meat.
She cut around, bleeding down
Kissing the floor as it fell. Till she
Stood there, her skin, meat upon
The floor.

Those final moments the seamstress
Saw she was beautiful, that it was
Underneath that was what she had
Missed, so much beauty spilled for
What, as she ran screaming towards
The window.

Like a mirror shattering shards
Showing her a reflection of the beauty
She had become, she was the seamstress
Of many faces but know only one
Face hits upon the unforgiving ground.

At high noon
the Witch will be burned at the stake!
we will see heads turn, hips bend, limbs break!
we will watch as the coarse flame is reflected in her eyes!
we will show no mercy as she dances and writhes!

She gets what
she deserves, this evil-doing trickster
even now as her lips boil and her skin begins to blister
she slipped to our children a candied liquid elixir
it made them delirious, it ****** with their minds
now they've formed an army and are coming up from behind
They mean to save her, these once-innocent children
we only had about twenty now they number one million

The fire burns
through her chest, blouse and britches
we even hired the court's jester to keep us all in stiches
Let the fire burn free, give it no restrictions
for today we burn a Witch with the purest of intentions
but what exactly what her crime was
I believe I've failed to mention

She ordered us
to think, for ourselves one and all
and now at death's brink, out to the devil she doth call
She shouts at him with pleasure as her black heart succumbs to flame
He approaches at his leisure, he's no amateur at this game
He gathers her from the post, right before she dies
he tastes the flesh of roast, feasting on his prize
right before he left, he peeled off both her eyelids
and flicked them to the crowd, we devoured them in silence.