March 2011
1 post
“To live is to love; the rest is cancer.”
May 2009
9 posts
1 tag
1 tag
Edge of her skin
There’s some kind of light at the end
Stoned, forgetful, and then
I’m drinking what used to be sin
And touching the edge of her skin
And could you be the one that’s not afraid
To look me in the eye
I swear I would collapse
If I would tell how I think you fell
From the sky
My words, they pour
Like children to the playground
Children to the playground
You make me...
1 tag
becoming the truth
Along the hard crust of deep snows,
To the secret, white house of yours,
So gentle and quiet – we both
Are walking, in silence half-lost.
And sweeter than all songs, sung ever,
Are this dream, becoming the truth,
Entwined twigs’ a-nodding with favor,
The light ring of your silver spurs…
- Anna Akhmatova
1 tag
Why can't it be mine?
Sheets of empty canvas, untouched sheets of clay
Were laid spread out before me as her body once did.
All five horizons revolved around her soul
As the earth to the sun
Now the air I tasted and breathed has taken a turn
Ooh, and all I taught her was everything
Ooh, I know she gave me all that she wore
And now my bitter hands shake beneath the clouds
Of what was everything.
Oh, the...
1 tag
I ran
See, I think you’re scared. You put up a big glass wall to keep from getting hurt. But it also keeps you from getting touched. It’s a risk, isn’t it, girl? At least I had the guts to admit what I felt. Someday you’re gonna have to come up with the courage to admit you care.
‘I care’ she said.
I ran. I ran until my muscles burned and my veins pumped battery...
1 tag
1 tag
This is a Photograph of Me
It was taken some time ago
At first it seems to be
a smeared print: blurred lines and grey flecks blended with the paper;
then, as you scan it, you can see something in the left-hand corner a thing that is like a branch: part of a tree (balsam or spruce) emerging and, to the right, halfway up what ought to be a gentle
slope, a small frame house.
In the background there is a lake, and beyond...