the river of streets
What I don't know I divine, from the birds in the trees and the water of the window, from the brittle dawn and the ponderous dusk. The revelations often arrive late, rain-soaked and hunched of shoulder. Nothing beautiful is allowed innocence for long. Nothing true is without its risks and balms.
I awoke to thunder jumping on the roof, a fury...
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What I don't know I divine, from the birds in the trees and the water of the window, from the brittle dawn and the ponderous dusk. The revelations often arrive late, rain-soaked and hunched of shoulder. Nothing beautiful is allowed innocence for long. Nothing true is without its risks and balms.
I awoke to thunder jumping on the roof, a fury...
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affect
How does the mirror bear the burden of your reflection once it leaves? How does it fair having held your gaze and your features, how does it pass the time drained of that improbable perfection? How does the wish for your return ease its pain, or is it tortured in the way only objects are by the brief admission then extinction of love? Blake's...
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How does the mirror bear the burden of your reflection once it leaves? How does it fair having held your gaze and your features, how does it pass the time drained of that improbable perfection? How does the wish for your return ease its pain, or is it tortured in the way only objects are by the brief admission then extinction of love? Blake's...
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black ribbons
Between the long strung beads of rain, the silvered chains of water falling, the night admits some small assent. Beneath the burble of the drowned gutters full of litter, the blind curbs and the choking sewers, shadows tangle unfettered by the fresh winter river. Darkness stares as dreams and weather mingle, the parsed streaks and inky fingers of this blessed absence of light....
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Between the long strung beads of rain, the silvered chains of water falling, the night admits some small assent. Beneath the burble of the drowned gutters full of litter, the blind curbs and the choking sewers, shadows tangle unfettered by the fresh winter river. Darkness stares as dreams and weather mingle, the parsed streaks and inky fingers of this blessed absence of light....
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empty as the lights go out
The sovereign bonds that join night and dawn are played in reverse in the mirror, and the day goes its way. Stretched gray and supple, the sky is all but raining here at the cusp of dusk and night, here where the stars have abandoned us to the storm. Every direction is hurried traffic and birds on the line....
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The sovereign bonds that join night and dawn are played in reverse in the mirror, and the day goes its way. Stretched gray and supple, the sky is all but raining here at the cusp of dusk and night, here where the stars have abandoned us to the storm. Every direction is hurried traffic and birds on the line....
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arbitraria:
your words are incredibly beautiful and delicately constructed...i'm left with a quiet sense of awe at such talent and craft. thank you. 
hold still
The rain falls from the rooftops, the rain strings beads from the eaves. A barn owl screeches somewhere up above, like the voice of prophecy, the sound of tomorrow always harsh while living with yesterday's ears. Snails take to the pavement where earthworms squirm, drowning in slow motion. I loiter on the porch, watching the weather. I loiter on the porch, watching the...
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The rain falls from the rooftops, the rain strings beads from the eaves. A barn owl screeches somewhere up above, like the voice of prophecy, the sound of tomorrow always harsh while living with yesterday's ears. Snails take to the pavement where earthworms squirm, drowning in slow motion. I loiter on the porch, watching the weather. I loiter on the porch, watching the...
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the spaces and the breaks
The hour leans into tomorrow, forgetting all its vows. Work spent as heat and steam bleed into the atmosphere, trailing the last inklings of soul. All of our letters turn to words, the words to writing, the paper to the message to the discarded page. We hold on to our glasses, sip our drinks meagerly, fearing we might never get...
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The hour leans into tomorrow, forgetting all its vows. Work spent as heat and steam bleed into the atmosphere, trailing the last inklings of soul. All of our letters turn to words, the words to writing, the paper to the message to the discarded page. We hold on to our glasses, sip our drinks meagerly, fearing we might never get...
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texy:
Thankyou so much for the set comment,
it truly made me smile
it truly made me smile
this gray daze
The cold fog masks the lament of the icy wind that somehow found its way through the gray. Bare limbs drool spattered condensation so it seems like it is raining beneath each tree. Traffic appears only to speed off into oblivion, the gray tide swallowing all. Foot-falls seem like a countdown to some suspended surprise. Our pace a metronome to music that...
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The cold fog masks the lament of the icy wind that somehow found its way through the gray. Bare limbs drool spattered condensation so it seems like it is raining beneath each tree. Traffic appears only to speed off into oblivion, the gray tide swallowing all. Foot-falls seem like a countdown to some suspended surprise. Our pace a metronome to music that...
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vivid
Her face is always changing, with the lighting, with the mood. Memory is plastic, full of durable possibilities, but vulnerable to heat and force. I see here more and more in pieces. Her smile here, her gaze there, her sway and roll in the balance found in a roiling crowd. And still, in truth she has vanished. Her absence is riotous, eternity permeable and...
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Her face is always changing, with the lighting, with the mood. Memory is plastic, full of durable possibilities, but vulnerable to heat and force. I see here more and more in pieces. Her smile here, her gaze there, her sway and roll in the balance found in a roiling crowd. And still, in truth she has vanished. Her absence is riotous, eternity permeable and...
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the horizon line
It happens as it does, it must happen again and again. The wheel turns, the stars burn, people live their lives and sing their songs. I lean hard into an empty night, aching and breathing slow. The clouds linger in the quiet streets, the very air a suspension of belief. The depths of these deep blue moods linger on the doorstep, stand...
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It happens as it does, it must happen again and again. The wheel turns, the stars burn, people live their lives and sing their songs. I lean hard into an empty night, aching and breathing slow. The clouds linger in the quiet streets, the very air a suspension of belief. The depths of these deep blue moods linger on the doorstep, stand...
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"V" for victory
There is that fine moment, if the luck holds, if the repairs are solely cosmetic. That moment when having finally nothing left to say, you realize that no is listening anyway. And that fog that you watched roll in with that bleary Saturday dusk was indeed a house burning down. The smell of pine tar that arose so suddenly walking the dog...
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There is that fine moment, if the luck holds, if the repairs are solely cosmetic. That moment when having finally nothing left to say, you realize that no is listening anyway. And that fog that you watched roll in with that bleary Saturday dusk was indeed a house burning down. The smell of pine tar that arose so suddenly walking the dog...
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the blood and the blessed air
You will not be sanctified by your laws and your resolutions. The application of your will and your faith will lead you true or astray, or nowhere really but the eased strains of distant music and the idea that you will be absolved. You spurn all the witness to your crimes, and carry the weight of judgement to wield...
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You will not be sanctified by your laws and your resolutions. The application of your will and your faith will lead you true or astray, or nowhere really but the eased strains of distant music and the idea that you will be absolved. You spurn all the witness to your crimes, and carry the weight of judgement to wield...
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a count down and a kiss
You get to the bridge just in time to see that it is burning. All flames and fumes, the startling tactile fizzling of an inferno of steel, blazing bright above the callow mirror of a winter sea. You know at that moment, the heat and hubbub all the sibyl needed, you are never going back. The calendar is spent,...
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You get to the bridge just in time to see that it is burning. All flames and fumes, the startling tactile fizzling of an inferno of steel, blazing bright above the callow mirror of a winter sea. You know at that moment, the heat and hubbub all the sibyl needed, you are never going back. The calendar is spent,...
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