enchantment
How the light loves you, bathing in the richness of your bare skin, dancing towards the sky. How the day clings to you, the last to leave you to the swaddling shadow and the shuffling dust. Cloistered in blood and ritual you cast your steady spells. Burning just bright enough to catch the honest eye. Burning so deep creation wanders in your wake.
I...
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How the light loves you, bathing in the richness of your bare skin, dancing towards the sky. How the day clings to you, the last to leave you to the swaddling shadow and the shuffling dust. Cloistered in blood and ritual you cast your steady spells. Burning just bright enough to catch the honest eye. Burning so deep creation wanders in your wake.
I...
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the story that we started
What thorns there were bit at the flesh there was. What stones there were found their way under heel and toe. The ache flowed from tendon to muscle, anchoring flesh to bone and this wailing to the world. The fields overgrown, the tall grass gone to seed. The frenzied music of feeding birds, their wings rending the wind like paper....
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What thorns there were bit at the flesh there was. What stones there were found their way under heel and toe. The ache flowed from tendon to muscle, anchoring flesh to bone and this wailing to the world. The fields overgrown, the tall grass gone to seed. The frenzied music of feeding birds, their wings rending the wind like paper....
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quintessential
I dissolve slowly as the day blows through, trailing snips and snails in these gales of sweat and ash. Clues left where no-one is looking, crumbs dropped despite being well out of the woods. The sky lulls as the flocks assemble. The shadows tremble as the dogs kick up the dust.
The afternoon is given away to these sparks and incongruities. The dull lament...
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I dissolve slowly as the day blows through, trailing snips and snails in these gales of sweat and ash. Clues left where no-one is looking, crumbs dropped despite being well out of the woods. The sky lulls as the flocks assemble. The shadows tremble as the dogs kick up the dust.
The afternoon is given away to these sparks and incongruities. The dull lament...
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VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
xxxholic:
Lovely poem as always. Do you think you will leave nothing behind at all when you go?
xxxholic:
I'm still alive! I'm struggling, but I'm fine.
that icy smile
It slows us all from time to time, that smile too cool with teeth. The spies stand pole still on the skin, electric rumors everywhere. Beauty so clear and resolute that all that is left is given. The trust that is the main part wonder, every feel all brush and linger. The seduction that ends up merely mostly ploy. The clinging tingling...
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It slows us all from time to time, that smile too cool with teeth. The spies stand pole still on the skin, electric rumors everywhere. Beauty so clear and resolute that all that is left is given. The trust that is the main part wonder, every feel all brush and linger. The seduction that ends up merely mostly ploy. The clinging tingling...
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capricho
It is always hung upon these whims, the vagaries of this nearest faraway star and the chance reactions of the atmosphere. Tethered to the weather, plodding along with the drift of wind and cloud. The day is bright, the day is gray, the day is doomed to be reborn in the crackling shells of its just shed selves. The sun presses its dry lips...
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It is always hung upon these whims, the vagaries of this nearest faraway star and the chance reactions of the atmosphere. Tethered to the weather, plodding along with the drift of wind and cloud. The day is bright, the day is gray, the day is doomed to be reborn in the crackling shells of its just shed selves. The sun presses its dry lips...
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pass me by
So much for torches being carried. So much for flames that linger and endure. The world burns on and on, still searing from the weight of creation. Molten iron that steams and spews, the passionate irradiation of the immeasurable depths. Not a spark, not an ember follows this road. The only romance left here is that of distance, that certain staggered sweetness...
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So much for torches being carried. So much for flames that linger and endure. The world burns on and on, still searing from the weight of creation. Molten iron that steams and spews, the passionate irradiation of the immeasurable depths. Not a spark, not an ember follows this road. The only romance left here is that of distance, that certain staggered sweetness...
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that faraway shine
Lately I imagine those first near whispers of light as they brush so very nearly a kiss across your waking skin. The line after line that push through the blinds, awaiting just the right words as they ladder down flesh and floor. Rows of teeth or pickets in a fence. I treat the dawn like the run-off from your wakeful naked stretching...
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Lately I imagine those first near whispers of light as they brush so very nearly a kiss across your waking skin. The line after line that push through the blinds, awaiting just the right words as they ladder down flesh and floor. Rows of teeth or pickets in a fence. I treat the dawn like the run-off from your wakeful naked stretching...
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ready or not
I wake to that sinking feeling, the weight of the world all around me. Swaddled in rope and chain, buried beneath the fitful waves, always just breaking the skin of the sea. That breathless moment when identity closes in, all those words and names battering my flesh. All the claims made and debts owed and wounds that never heal. The ties and...
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I wake to that sinking feeling, the weight of the world all around me. Swaddled in rope and chain, buried beneath the fitful waves, always just breaking the skin of the sea. That breathless moment when identity closes in, all those words and names battering my flesh. All the claims made and debts owed and wounds that never heal. The ties and...
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bad habits and small rooms
Night clings to the walkways and the windows, headlights sweep the streets. The odd wandering excitement of children sounds sharp and high above the lit-up houses and the ragged yards. The trees settle into their evening breathing even as each leaf is leaving. The moon waxes on and on.
I stand near the quiet thudding of moths on the wrong...
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Night clings to the walkways and the windows, headlights sweep the streets. The odd wandering excitement of children sounds sharp and high above the lit-up houses and the ragged yards. The trees settle into their evening breathing even as each leaf is leaving. The moon waxes on and on.
I stand near the quiet thudding of moths on the wrong...
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of song and sand
In truth I had hoped that I would be that song, bright in your memory, woven into your thoughts. That melody that endures despite every year and mile. That tune that returns, not so much from the mind alone, but from the lonely wandering road of the heart. I know that this was just a sentiment to spend on falling stars....
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In truth I had hoped that I would be that song, bright in your memory, woven into your thoughts. That melody that endures despite every year and mile. That tune that returns, not so much from the mind alone, but from the lonely wandering road of the heart. I know that this was just a sentiment to spend on falling stars....
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things and places
You wake to rain, you wake to blue skies. You wake to spring only to wake to winter the very next day. Wheels spin with-in wheels. The story runs down and is born again, only with different words and details. The day breaks away from the brittle edge of a dream, and you are there, among all the things and places. You...
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You wake to rain, you wake to blue skies. You wake to spring only to wake to winter the very next day. Wheels spin with-in wheels. The story runs down and is born again, only with different words and details. The day breaks away from the brittle edge of a dream, and you are there, among all the things and places. You...
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missed
The rain falls and yet you still hold the sky somehow. Less than the silhouette crows or the seething gray. Less than the hint of a whisper. The rain falls and the street speaks your name aloud. The streets fill and somehow your silence soars.
There is that threat of thunder in the spark of your eyes. There is that utter calm granted by...
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The rain falls and yet you still hold the sky somehow. Less than the silhouette crows or the seething gray. Less than the hint of a whisper. The rain falls and the street speaks your name aloud. The streets fill and somehow your silence soars.
There is that threat of thunder in the spark of your eyes. There is that utter calm granted by...
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