Thursday, November 14, 2013
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Knowing What to Say
Do you choke on the cold
let it cut you open
Do you use love
as a lasso
Romance experience
Experience romance
I build it
by taking it apart
smothered bruised
and seething like music
_
let it cut you open
Do you use love
as a lasso
Romance experience
Experience romance
I build it
by taking it apart
smothered bruised
and seething like music
_
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
Prayer in the Storm
Today is
an avalanche
The night is
upset desert
packed light
snack light
Bring
morning
Sing
morning
by light
or not night
_
Monday, November 11, 2013
Improvising
My heart operates on battery.
Yes, you can read it two ways;
neither of them will make sense.
Somedays, you are my soul and
it's your ear I want to hug most.
(A testament--not much better.)
Although, your hands--do save me.
Sometimes their higher purpose is
to idly hold my tired, dripping face.
Many thousand feet above us, perhaps
stars dance ever slowly, unconcerned
their void filled with winking emoticons.
_
Yes, you can read it two ways;
neither of them will make sense.
Somedays, you are my soul and
it's your ear I want to hug most.
(A testament--not much better.)
Although, your hands--do save me.
Sometimes their higher purpose is
to idly hold my tired, dripping face.
Many thousand feet above us, perhaps
stars dance ever slowly, unconcerned
their void filled with winking emoticons.
_
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Lest I Forget
I don't speak to our dead everyday
even today, I'm just... just listening.
Listening for the way they whistle.
Mostly the dead never disappear
I can sweep up the dust and papers
and know they never appear either
Still the weight of their stare lingers
on my eyes, in smiles, the limit where
my breath slices my lungs like apples
And my freedom, this pulse I carry.
I close my eyes, every time the last
Holding in glances, instead of arms
_
even today, I'm just... just listening.
Listening for the way they whistle.
Mostly the dead never disappear
I can sweep up the dust and papers
and know they never appear either
Still the weight of their stare lingers
on my eyes, in smiles, the limit where
my breath slices my lungs like apples
And my freedom, this pulse I carry.
I close my eyes, every time the last
Holding in glances, instead of arms
_
Saturday, November 09, 2013
Friday, November 08, 2013
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