the hotel was always blue
heavy blue like grandfather's suspenders
blue heads on slivery bodies
taking up new residence

into the tree chipper
blue new blood
plaid blue and red in blue

doctor's blue-
time capsule blue
the coast line blues
heavy waves of mystery sway

BLUE VOICE
I am nothing but a boat its wing has a very bewitching tales I can't tell you their secrets. When the blue voice showed me its intangible soul, all the deep whispers dissolved in my dream as a sleepy blue rose. I can tell you another mystic glance; there are fogy seas of the blue voice, and you can feel their fingers touch your depth with calm astonishment. No, I am not a sorcerer, but I am just a passenger has drowned totally in the blue.

SLIVERY VOICE
I was not a chanter, but I could not sit on our tree bough when my grandfather had used to talk about the bright birds and the lucent horses of the sliver voice. There were cities of veiled winds their whispers touch our window with a delightful smile, penetrate our depth without delay and invade our souls with a deep salute. I was just a young child, and you can't expect to find in my pocket silvery fairies but our land is the daughter of the silver voice so you always find my daily chant; "oh the sliver voice, get my whishes on your wings and shelter my dream in the delicious midday. I am just a totally compliant and smooth southern child sits on that bough with sliver chants in his pocket."

PINK VOICE
I am not platonic, but I didn't smell the sleepy flowers of the pink voice. Do you see the colored vociferous wedding? Its naked soul is a fragrance of the coquette eyelids of the pink voice. When your eyes see the momentary waves of the pink voice, at that time, you will remember my words, and you will feel hardly the remote carnivalesque lands of my dispersed corners. Yes, I didn't smell the sleepy flowers of the pink voice, but I am a southern farmer knows everything about its dreamy smiles and hidden wishes.

FANTASY

I am the tiny, lonely pebble
on the distant shore
you are the rising tide
I am waiting for

to find and carry me
to the passionate and endless sea
let me then drown in your slivery
*****--in your kisses I would die blissfully.

Finding Beauty


in brokenness is a
fine how do you do Ma

You broke me in slivery
pieces when I was a little
girl. I am crackled like
the century in which we
were born.

You died with the tainted
Soil still on your hands.
I outlived the strangled
ivey you plaited me with.

My mends are obvious.
Gold veined patches
wind through my skin.
I am not an art form.

I am good wood burned
dark for your satisfaction.
I peel off the bark.

I found not beauty, but
redemption in the years
beyond your death.  I am
unbounded and only
slightly born.  

Life is an adventure but
to you it was a safari.
Your family was your
prey but it's ok

I have found beauty in
my life anyway.  You almost
killed me.

But...

"That Which Does Not
**** Me Makes Me
Stronger"


Caroline Shank

Transcend the surface tendencies of habits merely waste, break unspoken traumas long before we are encased.

For nothing holds sway like those who fear the end, keeping others trapped from seeing the world that will begin.

Drifting day by day in blissful slivery streams. Lost inside the knowing of a zen like patterned dream.

So pull into the light as the darkness meets the dawn, bring your soul illumination to that place you will belong.