My friend is a shy butterfly.
She doesn't want to come
Out of her cocoon.
She is colorful and beautiful and bright,
But she doesn't want anyone to know.
She stays quiet and tries
To blend in with the plain leaves,
To not draw attention to herself.
Only some people notice the butterfly.
And she lets them, if they're kind.
They are the lucky ones.

I remember a sunrise,
when language
finally spun out and left
us in easy stillness.

We watched the green
canal awake with a
flicker and I inclined;
willing him to touch me
just once...
But so relieved
when he only smiled and
said,
"Goodnight starshine."
~
Jamie, with one hand on her
hip and a flip-flop in the
other, struck the best
mighty-black-woman pose
a little-white-girl could
muster and cried,
"Harmoni, I'm gonna get
the shoe on you!"

Laughing
until tears reflected on
our faces and our ribs
implored mercy.
Laughing,
because all the world
was laughter.
~
I remember a Gemini saying,
"I love you."
Words a mere breath, a flutter
winging across distance
and circumstance, to rest
on my ear.

I remember having faith
and, for the first time in
my life,
faith was okay.
~
Tim’s profile ate at
my eye, vampire pale under
a bloated blue moon.

There was silence as there
was always silence,
expanding and breathing, throbbing
against the walls of my thoughts.

Dawn begged entry as his arms
wrapped me safe, and he said,
“I have to get out of this town.”

The hush mocked me. My tongue
became a corpse in my mouth.

“And I don’t want to go alone,”
he concluded but his thoughts were
far away from me and his arms and
the bloated moon, a sinking vista.

The silence belonged to me and so
did this lie,
maybe a finer gift
for the moment
than the truth.
~
I remember kissing a Kentucky
boy at a retro party. Long hair,
pulled into a reckless ponytail
and dance moves to rival
John Travolta's.

He was sporting a glittering
Saturday Night Fever costume,
beaming at me, and whispering,
"But I'm gay."
I remember a sly smile saying,
"It's time to put that theory to the test."
~
Shawn with his secret grin and
his animated hands,
hiking in the Glades.
He said,
"You're going to need a stick."
Knowing everything, my natural
response was an arrogant,
"What for?"
He shrugged, raised one of his
fine brows.

Later, when I was up to my chest
in mud, swimming alongside
a crayfish,
missing one of my shoes,
he smiled brightly down at me,
his chocolate curls a halo in the
backlighting sun,
"That's what you needed the stick for."
He demonstrated how he used it to
gauge the depth of the muck.
But he didn’t hesitate to offer me
his clean hand.
~
I remember a Gemini’s whisper,
"I love you."
Words a vague breath,
spinning and soaring across
distance and circumstance,
to rest on my heart.

I remember believing.
~
I remember Ashton and me
driving to The Waffle House
after midnight.
There was a smashed motorcycle
on the highway ahead, emergency
lights washing across the windshield.

Ash grinned and said,
"I'm glad I brought this."
And he lit a joint.
Half an hour later,
still in the exact same spot,
The Beatles Twist and Shout came
on the radio and
I screeched my best version on Lennon’s
wild invitation to shake it baby now
and Ash bellowed ah
Ahhh
AHHH
and laughter became warm wine
dribbling down our chins
as the final chords and beats
and voices
pounded together in a final
triumphant roar,
dissolving us into a happy heap
suspended in a moment where
such songs never end and
someone is always shouting,
“Play it again, John!”

The smile in Ashton’s eyes
said exactly what I was thinking
as horns honked and sirens cried
in some other universe…  
We didn't care if they never
cleared that road.
~
My voice made of iron,
I said to Phillip,
"There is no God."
I was sitting at the kitchen table
in our one-room apartment,
our first apartment,
naked and clinging to
a cup of coffee,
clinging to the only things
I could cling to with bitter
grief staining my lips.

He said,
"No?
Well, you're not alone, anyway."
I didn't know why it should matter
or if it did,
but I knew it was true and felt the
fact ride along to the tips of my toes.

I am not alone.
I wondered if that would always be true.
~
I remember a Gemini said,
"I love you."
Words a naked breath,
Sent to sail and glide across
distance and circumstance,
to quiet the shrill music of
my memories.
~
Chris’ hands shook as
he smoked and avoided my
gaze. We sat in inconsiderate  
plastic seats in a visiting room
where drooling, mumbling
patients weren’t allowed lighters
or belts or shoe laces.

This was before…
Before Cindy Cyanide
received her formal invitation;
When Slappy Sleepinol seemed like
a decent date to dance him into
a bruised and dreaming garden.

I examined those hollow eyes
in slantwise glimpses;
seeking answers in the creases
of his forehead, in the stroke of
his long smoky exhale,
inquiring, finally, “Why? But why…”

Through the haze, he
caught my eye, held it firm, and said,
“There is no ‘why’. I’m sorry.”
~
Hallucinating madly with Jessi
at my side, walking
down deserted streets in the
middle of the night.

She took off her skirt and put
it on her head. Became a Native
princess, headdress rising
from her brow,
spreading long down her naked back.
We continued walking, she
wearing nothing but a smile
and her *******.

The stars painted a melting  
map over our heads
and the road home was endless.
We were children and in that
immaculate moment, I knew
and I was glad.
~
And then there was
a Gemini.

And then there were dreams.

Comment est ce pour le début parfait à votre mardi?Uber - magnifique détails .les murs du Belmont Center et une robe BHLDN qui vous coupera le souffle briques apparentes .Un combo assez étonnant .non?Eh bien.c'est exactement ce que nous avons pour vous aujourd'hui.un amour - fest romantique conçu par Sara Gillianne Mariages \u0026Événements et capturé en belles images par Jessi Field.Voir tous ici .\u003cp\u003e

un film fou frais de

http://modedomicile.com

chrisdscott Photographie ?Oui robe ceremonie fille .s'il vous plaît.S'il vous plaît mettre à jour votre browserColorsSeasonsFallSettingsUrban SpaceStylesRomanticRustic Elegance
" La maison est où notre amour réside ; Quatre murs .deux coeurs . "

Cela a commencé comme un simple vision dans ma tête .comme je l'imagine la plupart le font .Il est spécial pour moi que parce que mon inspiration robe de mariée courte vient de ma propre relation .Comme une famille de militaires .nos racines sont là où nous avons planté nos pieds .Cela change souvent dans cette situation .Accueil devint où nous nous sommes retrouvés .aussi longtemps que nous étions ensemble .C'est cette notion romantique qui m'a gardé à la terre et est le même que celui qui a inspiré ce tournage .Parfois .tout ce que vous avez vraiment besoin est amour robe ceremonie fille ( et quatre murs ) pour être vraiment «maison».

L'équipe réunie pour ce tournage était tout simplement incroyable .C'était comme des étoiles alignées et tout était comme nous l'avions espéré dans le processus de planification .

Ce tournage était vraiment un rêve devenu réalité pour moi .et j'aime que j'ai eu l' occasion de montrer notre talent local.

Photographie : Jessi Field | Cinématographie : chrisdscott Photographie | Conception de l'événement: Sara Gillianne Mariages et Evénements | Fleurs : Supposey florale de mariage | robe : BHLDN | gâteau de mariage: Kiley Sellette | Réception Lieu: Le Centre Belmont | Maquillage: SarahPeake | cheveux : Maxine Lyvers | Articles faits à la main : Déclarations YOUnique | Hommes : Tenue de soirée de Gent | Modèle: Haven Turner | Modèle: Landon Tewers | Locations Vintage : hemstitch Location de cruBHLDN est un membre de notre Look Book .Pour plus d'informations sur la façon dont les membres sont choisis .cliquez ici

i.

I think meetings are like satsumas;
the skin
can peel
off in
tiny pieces,
your fingers will get covered in the juice
and you can spend hours picking off the white stringy bits
and then the fruit will taste sweet and it will be all worth it.

Or it peels off in one easy motion and it’s all full of pips or it’s dry or it’s bitter and that’s like meetings.

Meetings are strange because they can go on forever or they can be over in a minute.

Some people you meet everyday.
Others you meet once and never see them again.
My parents had the second type of meeting.
They met at a bus stop and my mother complained about the weather and my father agreed it was too hot and then he gave her his number and then she called him.
He became her window cleaner.
He moved in.
They lived in the same house.
They never saw each other.

Everything was terrible.
They never met again.
They drew up different lists:
Frankie, Rae, Teagan.
Genevieve, Emily, Jessica.
Somehow it became something else that neither particularly liked and the outside world didn’t much like it either. They locked the doors and I watched from the window.

Why don’t you go out? Don’t go out.

Everything was terrible.
Mother saw it on the TV.
Father saw it through other people’s windows.
But I can seem never break the peel.
It doesn’t come off in one easy motion
and it doesn’t come off in pieces.
It doesn’t come off at all.

But I am the girl from the cobweb;
I am the spider who stopped catching flies.
From the smell of gravy and soapy water to the kebabs and urban fox.

Meetings. Where do I begin?

ii.

Adrian Wren was wondering how many leg bones
it would take to build a wall around his house,
or rather round his old house.
The bones would have to go around the neighbour’s houses too
so he supposed it would take quite a lot of bones to go round all the houses.

He was writing an article about a murderer who kept the leg bones of his victims.
This was not a crucial element.
It was supposed to be about the murderer’s childhood,
in which the murderer was the victim.
The childhood did not answer the question: why leg bones of the victims?
The bones were building up in his head.
How would you glue bones together?
Adrian began typing;
the isolation and loneliness of being a middle child, the least favourite son.
The problem with being the victim.

It was actually kind of funny, when he thought about it.
Why a leg bone? Why not something smaller, that could be hidden?

Adrian wondered if the girl in the red boots thought about things like that. The girl who had knocked on the door of the too small flat to use his shower and borrow a cup.

Her shower,
she said,
kind
        of
            just
                   dripped.

iii.

Sometimes, I tell lies. Or not quite lies. Half truths. For example:
• These shoes belonged to a dead woman.
• Sea cucumbers can use their internal organs as a defence  mechanism.
• My cousin nearly died whilst attempting to eat a match.

I just want to tell something to someone but I don’t always have the real story, so I tell a not quite story. Or ask a not quite question. For example:
• What would life be like if humans had shells?
• Do we have shells?
• What do people living on mountains do with their faeces?

Right now, I’m looking at the flecks on the carpet, trying to find faces. Once, there was a house built above a graveyard and faces appeared on the floor. I wish there were faces on this floor. I wish I lived above a graveyard.

I live on the ground floor, above the bins. It’s interesting to watch what people have to put in the bins.

If only you’d concentrate on something important as much as you concentrate on that window.

But here’s the man from four floors away, putting his ******* in the bin. His clothes frown, his hair frowns, his whole being frowns. Frowns are like creases ironed into clothes, but who is the iron, what are the clothes?


*iv.

Adrian Wren was still trying to solve the riddle.
Most people thought they gave cryptic clues
about themselves but they were actually
just the conventional ones reworded.
This was a real riddle.
It was about her and it wasn’t about her.
It began with a J and ended with an I.
Anything could fit in between.

Jaci? Jessi?

She had a habit of appearing,
maybe at the bottom of the stairs.
Adrian was somehow angry at her,
just for being there,
sitting on the stairs,
picking a spider out of her hair,
walking out then coming back in as
if to test she really knew the code.
He was trying to write up an argument about people
on benefits but the space bar
keptgettingstuckandthewordsgotclumpedtogetherintonewwordsthat­noonehadanysuggestionsfor.

Jenni? Jodi? Juli?

Sometimes, he was certain she was trying to steal something.
Other times, she was one of those strange specimens
who attached themselves to another, because of an accidental look.
Mostly, she was just the girl in the boots without a name.

Jerri? Josi? Jani?*

Adrian found that the riddle hung
                                                             on
                                                             the edge
                                                              of­ the mind,
an itch which wasn’t really too itchy.

There were other things to worry about:
• Work
• Old things reopening
• Work
• Ignoring the phone
• Work
• A knocking at the door.
• Do you mind, if I come in – it’s just there’s this programme on telly and-

v.

Just tell me your name. He didn’t want to play this game.
Only, it was addictive, now he’d got started.
Now, it was a matter of having to know.
I gave you all the clues I’m giving, she grinned.


Joni,
Adrian said finally,
looking back at the screen
of his laptop.

vi.

Joni-Rae.
It was hyphenated because they couldn’t decide,
because they never really met.

Sometimes, people will call me Joan if they hate nicknames and Johnny if they can’t pronounce it.

Joni-Rae, but actually only ever Joni.
Begins with a J and ends in an I.
Does that still count, if I amputated part of it?
His middle name was nearly Ray too.
Adrian Ray Wren. Too many Rs.

I’m still looking for my middle name though. Does it mean I’m missing a bit of my meaning? Is there a bit of me I haven’t met just yet? Can we meet ourselves or only other people?