the drab half-through
You wait for the light to change, though the sky is all the same. A push of gray and blue, littered with the reverent sway and flutter of a sea of limb and leaf. A crow skates by missing pin feathers. If this slows it, it doesn't seem to show. Green light and you follow the painted purpose of the lane. Sometimes...
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You wait for the light to change, though the sky is all the same. A push of gray and blue, littered with the reverent sway and flutter of a sea of limb and leaf. A crow skates by missing pin feathers. If this slows it, it doesn't seem to show. Green light and you follow the painted purpose of the lane. Sometimes...
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recompense
The radio crackled, the usual admonitions about traffic and explorations of the demography of war. It was all sunlight and the glint of steel, exhaust fumes and tarmac and a hazard every mile. Something so strange about an old commute, revived after so much time buried in rocks and dirt. Something so strange about a life that just won't be murdered, moving again towards...
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The radio crackled, the usual admonitions about traffic and explorations of the demography of war. It was all sunlight and the glint of steel, exhaust fumes and tarmac and a hazard every mile. Something so strange about an old commute, revived after so much time buried in rocks and dirt. Something so strange about a life that just won't be murdered, moving again towards...
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savor
The lingering wind rustles all the stars, the mocking bird singing in full throat in the warm and restless night. I sowed sleep like a handful of hope and seed, waiting to find you dreaming. Birds sing and stars wander, slipping beneath your clothes, scratching at your legs. There is a calm to this rich subsistence, an ease to this immeasurable distance. A breath,...
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The lingering wind rustles all the stars, the mocking bird singing in full throat in the warm and restless night. I sowed sleep like a handful of hope and seed, waiting to find you dreaming. Birds sing and stars wander, slipping beneath your clothes, scratching at your legs. There is a calm to this rich subsistence, an ease to this immeasurable distance. A breath,...
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unbidden
The dream is so dull and typical that it was scarcely worth the sleeping. Stray cats and chain link fencing. The way that the wind has with the tides of trash. Waking is so similar it is hard to find a reason to stay awake. The body creaks and crackles, revealing new complaints and elaborating on the familiar themes of old ones. The mirror...
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The dream is so dull and typical that it was scarcely worth the sleeping. Stray cats and chain link fencing. The way that the wind has with the tides of trash. Waking is so similar it is hard to find a reason to stay awake. The body creaks and crackles, revealing new complaints and elaborating on the familiar themes of old ones. The mirror...
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matter
The prayer beads are worried. The ritual spilling out of the restless spirits and into those busy hands. Smooth wood warmed by the work of fingers, by the grace of living flesh. Thoughts folded around the expelled breath and the scant syllables, spoken so often that their meaning is worn. The thinking even leaving everything up to the muscle memory, thoughts all but gone...
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The prayer beads are worried. The ritual spilling out of the restless spirits and into those busy hands. Smooth wood warmed by the work of fingers, by the grace of living flesh. Thoughts folded around the expelled breath and the scant syllables, spoken so often that their meaning is worn. The thinking even leaving everything up to the muscle memory, thoughts all but gone...
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she waits
This song is the tumbling of the earth, this song is the spilling of the sky. It is the blood trickling from the flesh, and the ghost hungering at the open wound. It is the work of roots and the way of stones. This song is never the words, just the singing. It is the air at the edge of the atmosphere, all...
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This song is the tumbling of the earth, this song is the spilling of the sky. It is the blood trickling from the flesh, and the ghost hungering at the open wound. It is the work of roots and the way of stones. This song is never the words, just the singing. It is the air at the edge of the atmosphere, all...
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tourist
It is in the last daylight gleaned from pine needles. It is in the wings unfolded against the warm wind, three crows embracing the west. Shouts and squeals from errant children pursuing their quests of noise and play, hanging like embers in the air. It is that sheen of sweat glistening in the sunshine, the sound of paws treading dust. The sky falls down,...
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It is in the last daylight gleaned from pine needles. It is in the wings unfolded against the warm wind, three crows embracing the west. Shouts and squeals from errant children pursuing their quests of noise and play, hanging like embers in the air. It is that sheen of sweat glistening in the sunshine, the sound of paws treading dust. The sky falls down,...
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ordinary
They worship the light then curse the shadows it casts. They love the filth then hate the rats it beckons. They are tribes and they are nations. They are faiths and reasons and all the alibis written to save a name. They live as if they were the reflection and not the face that is captured. They live as if they were innocent, explaining...
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They worship the light then curse the shadows it casts. They love the filth then hate the rats it beckons. They are tribes and they are nations. They are faiths and reasons and all the alibis written to save a name. They live as if they were the reflection and not the face that is captured. They live as if they were innocent, explaining...
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even so
It is small comforts and dark thoughts, another midnight burned down to ash, another day awaiting this fool's pursuit. The wind at the windows, the light in the hall. Fill the hands with habits, stifle the eyes with any glow. Another word, another breath, another deal made with death. Tomorrow and tomorrow, that dread proposition, that forgotten faith. Sleep comes and goes. The...
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It is small comforts and dark thoughts, another midnight burned down to ash, another day awaiting this fool's pursuit. The wind at the windows, the light in the hall. Fill the hands with habits, stifle the eyes with any glow. Another word, another breath, another deal made with death. Tomorrow and tomorrow, that dread proposition, that forgotten faith. Sleep comes and goes. The...
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absence sings
It is the skin's own addiction, that last hour leaving dust on the walls. It is the very moment, sliding through your fingers. Something shuffling just out of view, a sound like dead leaf walking. Something breathing in the dark, a feel like a dream waiting just around the corner, longing to go bad. Time is a notion attached to the changes in...
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It is the skin's own addiction, that last hour leaving dust on the walls. It is the very moment, sliding through your fingers. Something shuffling just out of view, a sound like dead leaf walking. Something breathing in the dark, a feel like a dream waiting just around the corner, longing to go bad. Time is a notion attached to the changes in...
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dwam:
Thanks for your lovely comment on my set 
hidden
It is more than the miles between us. It is more than the sun in my eyes. The dusk is all nets and tethers, tamping down the powder, capturing so much with wings. Then the night arrives, all whispers and grasping hands. The world is too much to wait for. The world is too much to know.
Past midnight and the sound of feet,...
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It is more than the miles between us. It is more than the sun in my eyes. The dusk is all nets and tethers, tamping down the powder, capturing so much with wings. Then the night arrives, all whispers and grasping hands. The world is too much to wait for. The world is too much to know.
Past midnight and the sound of feet,...
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the want
There are words I would whisper, as if you were near. There are things I would say, mingling wishes with your flesh and blood. The night bends around every opposition. The night abides every twist and turn. The wind carries my breath as it extinguishes my voice. It wanders until the words are lost forever. Only the want left from my breath remains....
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There are words I would whisper, as if you were near. There are things I would say, mingling wishes with your flesh and blood. The night bends around every opposition. The night abides every twist and turn. The wind carries my breath as it extinguishes my voice. It wanders until the words are lost forever. Only the want left from my breath remains....
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