"desktop" poems
In this new world so connected digitally
Online with your smartphone or desktop continuously
Every touch or click with your fingers sublimely
Connecting messaging chatting seductively
Rush of dopamine brain lives ecstatically
Bits and bytes that rise and fall emotionally
Waiting for physical touch earnestly
LDR love seem to be extraordinarily
Yet to see LDR grows into LTR eventually
Dec 29, 2019
Dec 29, 2019 at 7:23 AM UTC
Conversation opened. 1 read message.
Skip to content
Using Gmail with screen readers
in:sent
Click here to enable desktop notifications for Gmail. Learn more Hide
1 of 184
QUIVER ALL-MAXIMIZING
SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]>
3:38 AM (56 minutes ago)
to Daniel
SOAR OWNERSHIP
/ UTTERANCES OUTLABOURED PILGRIMS/
By the creditor at cyprus and on other grounds:
The counter-cedar Venice much unparalleled ever pursuant kindly indigenous street streams far above strange beneath the string ...' Dream castle before the 'Requiring much quill 'Peanut lieutenant great ones of the machinery citation / Worth pillow following purposes invasion with a rainfall bombardment epistle the pearl earning era: Closet by sessions pursue arithmetician diaries ' anchor calculus cumulative arrows propellant / Squadron in the field-refueling ' division visions ...' Upswing within the meaning axle conversion processes proofs / ' Electron icons ' Creation wireless reticence circles: Moon ship's amnesty crest reckon 'flaskbone SpurZebra...' Preferment goes by relieves and affectionate 'Oil The Self-graduation Outpouring / Vagrant above ant strides : Rodrigo peculiar ends demonstration/ Forego the-Outward acclimation : Upon all civility citizenry civil-rises other low less losses below yonder / Phrase of prose -possessions cuss ion syn chronicutensils 'asylum systems beyond stems : Preeminence blown 'being ht-thence quarries hijack travels history/Wherein of plant hours ' spicily spoke ***** Pilgrimage dilutes noble companies 'ago-maximize promptly alacrity; Exhibition the underrating besought levels- of quarry / burden oxidation immune slaughter
Cheap Hill Chips
EMAIL: [email protected]
+2348131914240
Click here to Reply or Forward
0.04 GB (0%) of 15 GB used
Manage
Terms - Privacy
Last account activity: 49 minutes ago
Details
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
maybe I should encourage violence within conformity and seek to end impressionism or maybe NOT!- create perversions within a song split-ting hairs of the long dead being found at a youthful age washed ashore no longer breeding nor bleeding ceased of breathing to be now an exact science- scaled back models of when it was brave to be bold but hidden from news cameras for leftover caveats - I wanna go else-where and find redemption to shout **** you - desktop plants dried out from foul air and aspirin bottles ******** clad in old skin next to a banana peel- no remorse no recourse no answers for in my brain
prescribed lies conjunct with irreversible truth complexity.
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 11:44 AM UTC
What to do about wanderlust?
Should it be quelled?
Desktop backgrounds are my only escape
Maps with tacks and backpacks with knick-knacks
It all seems so far away
Cobblestone steps are wearing down
By the feet of enlightened in wondrous towns
While chairs are pushed in
Or left out of place
Thoughts are escaping to the vacuum of space
This Earl Grey is mint tea in Tangiers' seats
Or gold and black Yunnan at her highest peaks
It's sifting through pans of Fynbos' red leaves
What to do about wanderlust?
Should it be quelled?
I seem to dwell
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
For five years I kept a suicide note in a glittery pink heart-shaped box in the bottom of my closet
Until one day I was strong enough to tear it up and throw it away
This summer I saved a suicide note to my desktop
And I don't know when I'll be strong enough to press delete
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 11:33 AM UTC
1. I was outside shoveling horse **** considering the more **** I piled up, the less you'd deal with when you came home.
2. I woke up every night at 2, unfamiliar to having the bed all to myself, curled around a pillow like a buoy far from shore, sea sick in the choppy water, my vision reduced to abstract smudges. I focused on what must have been your silhouette as I gulped cups of salty water half a mile into the ocean, exhausted and drowning.
3. Medicinal marijuana alleviates anxiety. I won't swear on depression, I believe, there are four types of depression. Blue dreams are most desirable, every day for 8 months.
4. You've probably seen this desktop orb that captures electrical currents, so when you touch it with your fingers violet bolts ignite against your glass fingerprint. With this light, 2 a.m. I scoop the sandman's hash into my pipe so i can get some rest from my past who caught up to me a few days ago.
5. Dreamer. Heartbreaker. Deep thinker. No harm has come -- to--- you.
6. When it gets dark again, run baby run. Spin around with my eyes on his, reveal the wreck behind my lids, at the thought of losing him, not to another woman, but to Fate. Hold him tight. Make love like you mean it, not to **** but to tie two hearts together as they bleed. It's bloodstains on the white sheets, two people loved here like death sat by the dinner table, waiting on his appetizer.
7. The cruel morning illuminates his naked body as he slept. I cried because I didn't know if dreamed of pleasing me. Why did I let things I couldn't control worry me?
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
In this household there’s far too much noise!...your mobile, your pager, your palmtop, your laptop, your desktop, your land-line, your radio, your plasma screen, your mp3, your ***** driver, your GPS, your audio-books, your lawn-mower, your toothbrush, your stereo, your play-station, your VCR, your hairdryer, your podcasts, your DVD player, your digital clock, your analogue clock, your juicer, my ******** your drill...
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 10:11 AM UTC
It was a blurry reflection I saw in the clouds,
it was clear in the sky and as if I was facing my own body —
my legs can barely walk, my hands were trembling
and I can only open my mouth to breathe.
Though there are birds who prey on me, my wings have kept me on guard
and I stood still, alone, with my legs broken
and of little faith.
The world bestowed upon me was ruthless for someone as dreamy and a little in love as me —
I wish that sometimes I can be as hard as a rock,
so the world can see how cruel I am to her
and give me something that I can call a spark of joy.
I have beheaded myself from having to only daydream about falling in love, I have disconnected the veins flowing around my heart —
so it won't feel anything, but even the day sets down and night comes up,
I would still be in love and be of little faith, that I, part of a million particles living in on this earth — can still be held by a man whom I hold on so dearly.
Maybe if I would be less cruel to myself and nice to hard rocks, he will find me and I can walk again.
Maybe my heart that was made of soft cotton easy to be pulled by can be colorful like the blue sky,
and my face can mirror back the clouds' reflection —
and my hands can touch the end fur of the trees dancing when they see me in love wholly and less ruthless.
Maybe if I say maybe now, I can be held like I am a precious gem in his eyes and the birds won't be my enemies anymore,
they will sing wedding bells' songs and I'd smile in regards,
I will strum my harp and the only thing I can get by at the end of the day was his smile,
and that will build my little faith, and I will feel the love again, the once daydreamer, has now fulfilled her reality.
And I am back again in writing these, for myself while I continue to work and I sit here — in front of my desktop waiting for my reveries to come to life.
Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 11:24 PM UTC
We used to sit in your parent's basement
with your two dogs on their little beds
in the corner by the old desktop computer,
wooden hand-me-down grandmother cabinetry,
lace doilies underneath all the candles
on the coffee table. I made you turn out the lights.
We would sit there and pretend
that we could find something better to do
than kiss between commercials
or talk about all the things we used
to dream about in high school, how I
got mine and how yours were like
the back bumper of a car that got left
out in the rain too long-- a little rusty.
Your kissing was a little rusty,
but I let it go because you didn't make fun
of me ordering a double grilled cheese
on our first date. You also didn't judge
when I got drips on my dress
from my ice cream cone. I can still
remember the way you'd yell at me
for stopping too far out at intersections,
laughing how I was gonna get us killed
one day, but I think
you just really loved to hear me sing
over you. I think you really loved
me, and here I was playing teeter
totter on curbs in little jean shorts
with a guy who gave me a slice
of leftover pizza. Here I was, burning
down your own ambitions because
they didn't seem as glittery as my own,
because you didn't quite match all the sketches,
all the plans I had on my map. Because
if we were to draw straws I always thought
you would come up a little short.
I think you really loved me and I left you
like a penny in between that couch
we used to sit on.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 11:04 AM UTC
I froze my *** off filling my tank yesterday.
Me and Tyson are watching early morning news.
Still **** at poetry writing but getting better.
I logged on to Google+ to see your new pic in color.
You look great in black and white on your profile btw.
You are so ****** gorgeous and thoughts
of you make my heart leap and keep me very warm.
I heard another siren five minutes ago.
I'm staying at home to work from my home office.
I went to whattalking and saw the enlargements
of your face then printed out your pictures.
No copyright violations intended and please don't sue. : )
Your gorgeous face is now my desktop theme.
My heart is leaping and I have butterflies in my stomach
thinking about you and seeing your pics Betty Ponder.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
From sevenpanda.com . Computer accessories enhance the efficiency in the way you are using the computer. This additional stuff really adds value to your work and accelerates the rhythm of your job. Take the functions of basic accessories like speakers, printers, scanners, UPS, surge protector, headsets, cases and covers, cleaning and repair kits. Now imagine... can you do your business without these accessories? Now think about some advanced accessories, which include webcam, microphones, gaming equipments, portable storage devices, CD and DVD recordable drives, network accessories and modem. All these accessories - basic and advanced - to help your business flourish.
Overall, accessories are must-have for a complete pc experience. No matter what kind of system you have, whether it is desktop pc or laptop, these hardware and peripherals can make or mar your business if not selected smartly.
http://sevenpanda.com
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 4:02 AM UTC
Desktop In The Charismatic
THEOLOGIAN ESSENCE <[email protected]>
BONE STIRS ....'
ASSEMBLIONAIRE BEYOND MAGICIAN WOLVES
INVISIBLE GRAND OUTPOURING AMNESTY SURROUNDS....'
Desktop In The Charismatic
Dream into refuge all plantation
Dream into cog all wheel
Dream into bracing all consultative
Dream into rocking all regent
Dream into preferable all chariots
Dream into luxurious all absorbs
Dream into contagious all enthusiasm
Dream into communal all welding
Dream into universal all anatomy
Dream into reality all rings
Dream into searchingly all mysteries
Dream into artillery all mechanisms
Dream into colony all proportions
Dream into miracle all compositions
Dream into artistry all pursuit
Dream into alliance all admiral company
Dream into fragrance all new extensions
Dream into vast volume habitation all invests
Dream into carrying devotion all per excellence
Dream into grace-going all shepherd rewarding
Dream into oasis all resuming acquaintance
Dream into cross over all answering wonder.
Your Invades-Of-Veins,
SURETICE TONGUE
Email: [email protected]
Click here to Reply or Forward
0.03 GB (0%) of 15 GB used
Manage
Terms · Privacy · Program Policies
Last account activity: 1 hour ago
Details
Conversation opened. 1 read message.
Skip to content
Using Gmail with screen readers
Click here to enable desktop notifications for Gmail. Learn more Hide
20 of 155
Desktop In The Charismatic
SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]>
11/9/17
to hydee1982
Desktop In The Charismatic
Dream into refuge all plantation
Dream into cog all wheel
Dream into bracing all consultative
Dream into rocking all regent
Dream into preferable all chariots
Dream into luxurious all absorbs
Dream into contagious all enthusiasm
Dream into communal all welding
Dream into universal all anatomy
Dream into reality all rings
Dream into searchingly all mysteries
Dream into artillery all mechanisms
Dream into colony all proportions
Dream into miracle all compositions
Dream into artistry all pursuit
Dream into alliance all admiral company
Dream into fragrance all new extensions
Dream into vast volume habitation all invests
Dream into carrying devotion all per excellence
Dream into grace-going all shepherd rewarding
Dream into oasis all resuming acquaintance
Dream into cross over all answering wonder.
Your Invades-Of-Veins,
Samuel-David O. Armstrong
Email: [email protected]
+2348131914240
Click here to Reply or Forward
0.03 GB (0%) of 15 GB used
Manage
Terms · Privacy · Program Policies
Last account activity: 1 hour ago
Details
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC
Hello all. I have been pretty busy with projects I've been working on.
I have been putting my poems up in PDF format and all of the new poems are available for download here:
http://deadbeatantihero.wixsite.com/thereisnothinghere
This website works best on a desktop. I tried accessing the website on my phone but some of the titles are buried within the other titles so I think it is best if you just access the website using a desktop. All you have to do is click the title that you want to read and it should automatically bring you directly to the PDF format of the works. You may also download them for free if you wish.
I am converting these works into PDF format with the intention to turn them into zines and chapbooks in the near future, given the right price and resource people to help me come up with the projects. Feel free and read away, all of the works are free and downloadable.
The website currently has 19 titles for you to read and download (if you want to, that is). Let me know if I could help you with anything!
Aug 1, 2016
Aug 1, 2016 at 2:50 PM UTC
a circling vortex of disarray
starts inside my head
clasped by unsure
yet supportive hands
the helpless recesses of which
lets the sycophantic white light of my desktop monitor
summoned upon a wretched click
scatter on this scattered face
forming a weak shield
amalgamated by the desolation
and imbecility of a roadside orphan
ignorant but lasting
on the crumbs left over
from a stranger's life
a familiar unsettling sound
cracks open this pale shield
and my brooding eyes open
to see her making contact
one instant
one magical instant,
and die the next
leaving my impressioned eyes
wanting more
i lie, lie to myself
when the truth is
there woud be no more
of her tonight
retreating never meant giving up
and i do retreat,
to escape the insanity
of her charm get to me
amidst real affection
to run away while wanting to look back
when an embrace is just outside my door
desperately wanting to hear that unsettling sound
which drowns the familiar sounds of laughter
the circling vortex now inherent
inside my head
clasped by my helpless
supportive hands
the helpless recesses of which
lets the servile white light of a numb monitor
trace my tears
oh how I weep
to be her onscreen ******
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 4:39 PM UTC
From a straight back wooden chair, I see
a cyan-blue ceramic bowl filled with
tangerines next to a desktop radio
tuned to NPR &
out the kitchen bay window
birds bicker over seeds
overflowing a feeder,
& a raccoon scours
the earth below --
I keep in mind the fact
all of these things will
be absent from my
sight one
day.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 8:32 AM UTC
small irregular steps, like
a little kid top-toeing towards
a cookie jar, his jar
a lonely lady
buried in her latest ‘good read’
behind her now, his hands
eclipse light, ‘guess who’
**** you’ she moans. his fat ***
teeter-totters on the chairs face,
his eyes catch her shut book,
denoting a ****** title, laughing
he jokes about windmill dunking
it in the tableside wastebasket
scoffing as she claws at the book,
before 180 dunking it in her bag,
which resembles a shelter for some
petty, puny & pathetic dog
she bibble babbles blah blah,
his eyes entranced on her chest
hoping the slightest bump will
blast her ***** through her blouse
like an airbag. distracted
by bowels, he debates cutting
cheese. gas leaks through a forest
of *** hair. overpriced coffee odors
mask the lingering stench as it floats
like a boat through espresso &
cappuccino airways; docking
my attention to a tech boy blinded
by his desktop. to infatuated to notice
the pair of blushing blue eyes blessing him
from a corner table. an old man
at his starboard laughs as he clings to his cane
like it’s the decaying hand
of his deceased wife.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
Sit down,
the nun says,
bringing Magdalene
into her office,
pointing to a chair
opposite her desk.
The nun eyes her
seriously, her face
framed in a black
and white headpiece,
her hands on the table
in front of her
palms down.
Magdalene sits
and stares at her shoes.
Do you know why
you are here?
the nun says.
You asked me
to come in here,
Magdalene replies,
lifting her eyes
to the nun's face.
The reason why
I asked you
to come here?
the nun says firmly.
Magdalene shakes her head,
fidgets in the chair.
The nun sits back
in her chair
and stares coldly.
Silence fills the room
and Magdalene moves
back in her chair,
crossing her legs
at the ankles.
There have been reports
of you and Mary Moran
being seen entering
a toilet cubicle together,
is that true?
the nun says,
head to one side
as if her neck had snapped.
Magdalene shakes her head,
no, who'd say such a thing?
What wormy ****
would say that?
Magdalene says.
The nun eyes her colder.
Sister Bridget saw you,
the nun says.
With or without
her glasses,
Magdalene says,
she's a bit short-sighted,
she often mistakes me
for the Murphy boy.
The nun stares
and shakes her head
and says,
you should show
respect to the nuns,
and not try to score
points off of other's
disabilities.
Magdalene looks
at the nun's hands
on the desktop,
tapping away
on the old wood.
I was not with Mary Moran;
I was on my own,
and why would Sister Bridget
be spying on me
going to the bog?
Magdalene says.
The nun slams her hand
down on the desktop,
and says,
DO NOT BE SO RUDE
AND TELL THE TRUTH.
Magdalene stares
at the slammed down hand;
once it had slapped her thighs
as a young girl in R.E,
for not raising her hand
to leave the room
for a *** now
she just stares at the nun
and says,
that's the truth
after all said and done,
cross my heart
and hope to die.
The nun rambles on,
but Magdalene
no longer listens,
recalls the kiss
on Mary's lips,
and the spark
in the nun's eyes
that glistens.
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 2:50 AM UTC
We rang in the new year
On a mattress thrown on your
Living room floor
With the ball drop
On a desktop computer screen
The sound was lagging
Behind the images
And we were laughing
At how we always end up
Stuck in the past
You threw your arms around me
And let your kisses land
Carelessly wherever
They fell
And I outlined your jaw bone
With my pointer finger,
Threading it through
Your beard
And looking into your
Lazy eyes
You counted the times I said
"Like okay" at the beginning of a story
And by 5 AM , you announced
We'd reached a healthy twenty
You kept apologizing
For the way your dog
Was relentlessly
Licking my neck
But honestly
Even with her slobber
And yours
Dripping over my collar bones
And even with the night air
Tingling on my thighs,
Just a little too thick,
Just a little too warm,
Even with my straightened hair
Curling at its ends
And your brother's girlfriend's
Faint moaning sounds from behind
A locked door
There was nothing I'd rather be doing
Than watching your eyes expand and contract
To the rhythm of your stories
Before the blue light of television
Overlapping moon lit window sills
And dark spaces
You are the yellow light love,
Symbolism with a pulse,
Saying "it's officially 2017"
With a begging grin
And an undercurrent of
Gentle laughter,
Standing for change
And growth
And warmth
And simplicity
You are transparent
And in the palms of your hands
I see the year panned out
In blue veins
And freckles
And it is kind hearted
And it is forgiving
And it is kissing my forehead
And letting me breathe
I know this is going to
Be a good one
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 1:58 AM UTC
Love is defined in many ways. Through the simplest thing that could bring biggest smiles and the most red blushes to a girl. Through the most humiliating teases of friends, to the hidden smile of a guy. For the youth today, love is seen in, sadly just through relationship statuses online, love is seen anonymously in the internet half way across the world. Love is, depressingly hard to know if real or reel because of the liberating actions of the new generation. But, how well do I know love? I am not sure, but I guess love is not just some stupid messages that you see in the screen of your desktop computers or laptops. It is an emotion that once felt, can't be controlled in one second. It is a feeling that we eventually develop for some one that we think we've been waiting for for a long time. Just like in Hades and Persephone's story. Hades laid an eye on her, like a lion eyeing for a lamb but not for dinner rather for a lifetime belongingness despite the fact that somehow he is a monster. And surprisingly, Persephone felt the same way. He's from down under, she's from up above, yet they gave love a definition that could've mean, love is worth fighting for, love is not about where you belong in earth, but to whom you should belong.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 1:30 PM UTC
It was the second morning of “daylight savings time,” and the change was noticeable.
My BF Peter has a doctorate in applied physics, he's an expert, so I asked him, “How do they move the sun?”
He gave me one of his patented, blank looks, “What, who moves the sun?” He answered.
“Well, yes,” I said, “I suppose the “who” is important, but HOW do they move the sun? Peter can be dense sometimes.
“What are you TALKING about?” Peter asked, his head tilted in confusion.
I explained, “It’s daylight savings, ya? The sun is different, SO - how do they move the sun?”
“They don’t MOVE the sun,” he said, in a smug "I've got a PhD" way, “people set their clocks ahead an hour.”
I was stunned - Could it all be a cheap trick?
How, (I snorted in my mind) could they get everyone on earth to do THAT?
I didn’t argue, but I didn’t set my Apple Watch ahead or my laptop, or my desktop, or my iPad or Alexa - his “apotheosis” was obviously wrong.
He’s a new PhD, they just haven’t told him how they do it yet. I can wait. I patted his hand for support.
Peter also says that, out there in the “multiverse,” there may be an earth where I don’t have homework. First of all, isn’t it just like a guy to believe all of that “marvel comic” stuff?
“So, Superman’s real then?” I asked. He just lowered his head - burn: I had him there.
Secondly, can he get me/us to this planet “No homework?” NO.
Applied physics may very well be useless.
Mar 14, 2023
Mar 14, 2023 at 10:34 PM UTC
The psychiatrist looks young
he seems Italian
she sits opposite
looking at his eyebrows
thick
but not too much so
and his lips opening
and closing as he speaks
but she isn’t listening
she’s wondering
if he’s married
where about he lives
what size his house is
how he looks undressed
he leans forward
his words slower now
as if he thinks her
imbecilic or maybe deaf
he emphasizes his words
his Italian accent
coming through
o what wonderful eyes
what flesh
his 9.0’clock shadow
gives a blue tinged
to his skin
he gestures with hands
opening them outward
like some trader
selling her something dodgy
she can smell his aftershave
it invades her nose
makes her nerves tingle
her knees touch
she lets them spread
beneath the desk
to the limits
her nightdress allows
he sits back in his chair
his words back
to fast speed
over her head
his gestures
are by fingers now
pointing and twirling
his eyes dark
intense like Nietzsche’s
she thinks
she leans forward
air pushing
between her thighs
as she spreads
her legs
as much as possible
under his desk
life’s one big adventure
she thinks
one big dare
she puts her elbows
on his desktop
wearing no underwear
but he doesn’t know
it doesn’t show
but if it did
what then?
what would he say or do?
the window is open
the sky a bright blue.
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 3:26 AM UTC
tangerine cider tickles my tongue
ultraviolet undulates on the blacktop,
a summer wave of a mistaken mirage
falsified, yet ever-so-present
i could've sworn it was tangible
the taste of your lips i've forgotten
some of the memories have dissipated
brown hair trickles along my earlobes
chocolate caresses my cheek
eyes stay peeled on me
i changed
my skin has sunken with calories
and my lips have cracked unwillingly
i watch tires swerving by
and ponder the progress i've made
yet i can't seem to wonder
if i've forgotten a piece of me
as i searched for what i'd lost,
for what you had stolen,
to no avail
how can i forgive someone
i can't even fathom to respect
empathy is a blessing to others
but a curse residing within
unforeseen laughter tickles my tongue
ultraviolet undulates against your desktop,
a newcomer waves to your own entourage
falsified, yet ever-so-present
Jul 7, 2023
Jul 7, 2023 at 6:08 PM UTC
Miss G puts on Chopin
the old record player's
seen better days
one can tell
by the stylus
and the way
Miss G's finger
lifts its down
on the record
I sit at the back
of the class
with a kid named Rennie
Yochana 's at the front
with the blonde girl
-Yochana's dark hair
at shoulder length-
her fingers
pretend playing
on the desktop
her slim body
moving side to side
in the open backed chair
old tit-less thinks
she the pianist
Rennie darkly says
I'm already watching
her hands going cross
in front of her
side to side
and her slim body
captured in my inner
eye and out
and secretly
I blow kisses
at her
when no one's about.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 2:51 AM UTC
Some days I feel like misshapen clay
A child’s inept attempt at sculpting a shoddy piece of pottery
I crack in the glaze phase never attain proper consistency
Clearly covered in artisan fingerprints that were poorly masked
I live a lifetime as a bowl, barely holding water
Raising as my own planted seeds who grow too big for me
As trees
I occupy a dusty desktop where I am keeper of an arsenal
Of pens
Enveloped in now-dried pigment from early school art class
One day, I am accidentally elbowed off of the kitchen counter
And fall to the floor
Shatter into fragments
Bits and morsels
Chunks and crumbs
Shards of misshapen clay
Feb 3, 2011
Feb 3, 2011 at 3:28 PM UTC