wishful thinking
The cement eases the light into the night, shines just a little, holds on for awhile. That pale glow that endures in the eye, entangles the memory, every thing seeming root and leaf. Don't bother trying to find the horizon. Don't bother trying to scan the stars. The wings we are left with too overwhelming to spread. The heights we will rise to...
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The cement eases the light into the night, shines just a little, holds on for awhile. That pale glow that endures in the eye, entangles the memory, every thing seeming root and leaf. Don't bother trying to find the horizon. Don't bother trying to scan the stars. The wings we are left with too overwhelming to spread. The heights we will rise to...
Read More
anarkiti:
Gorgeous piece of writing! Absolutely stunning.
shine a light
The storm whispers on in, the slenderest thread of breath and threat. Just a little something in the air, wind through the fingers and rain slipped across lips. Just another pressing of a hushing finger, before the world again is undone. A train sounds on this new moon night. Ghosts all lingering just below the skin.
So goes this life of waiting...
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The storm whispers on in, the slenderest thread of breath and threat. Just a little something in the air, wind through the fingers and rain slipped across lips. Just another pressing of a hushing finger, before the world again is undone. A train sounds on this new moon night. Ghosts all lingering just below the skin.
So goes this life of waiting...
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no expectations
The sun has had its say, the day blue and blinding, the road long and steady. Traffic is the answer, who am I, why am I here, those dullards questions cast towards the sky and stars. Traffic is the course of time spent on strangers, of these lonely crowds. Tumult and cacophony, riot and calumny, the trials of the ordinary, the trauma of...
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The sun has had its say, the day blue and blinding, the road long and steady. Traffic is the answer, who am I, why am I here, those dullards questions cast towards the sky and stars. Traffic is the course of time spent on strangers, of these lonely crowds. Tumult and cacophony, riot and calumny, the trials of the ordinary, the trauma of...
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paraph
The night burns on, all the gods loosed hounds, the wind running wild in the woods. Ice makes its claims, every proportion a number nearer the end. The ache in the back, the pinch between the shoulder blades. The strange revelation of the self dissolving, the chorus full of wires. It is work, this trend in the weather. Cold like the loss of possibility,...
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The night burns on, all the gods loosed hounds, the wind running wild in the woods. Ice makes its claims, every proportion a number nearer the end. The ache in the back, the pinch between the shoulder blades. The strange revelation of the self dissolving, the chorus full of wires. It is work, this trend in the weather. Cold like the loss of possibility,...
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here at the end of the world
There is dust on the door hinge. There is a spider by the basin, a cold touch to each breath. Darkened hallways bleed into darkened streets, ill lit and lonely from the curb to the crosswalk needing paint. The phone is there, resolute in that profound stillness felt only to those living in the wrong world. The whole...
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There is dust on the door hinge. There is a spider by the basin, a cold touch to each breath. Darkened hallways bleed into darkened streets, ill lit and lonely from the curb to the crosswalk needing paint. The phone is there, resolute in that profound stillness felt only to those living in the wrong world. The whole...
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past tense
You can always call me when the dark awakes you, so soft and sharp. You can always find me where the night resolves its shine. The cold is there, drifting in vast distance. The cold is close, all the feeling bleeding away from each fingertip, warmed with huddled breath. You could call me, now that the ice arrives.
The flag erupts all feel...
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You can always call me when the dark awakes you, so soft and sharp. You can always find me where the night resolves its shine. The cold is there, drifting in vast distance. The cold is close, all the feeling bleeding away from each fingertip, warmed with huddled breath. You could call me, now that the ice arrives.
The flag erupts all feel...
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five crows
The moment shatters, opened wide by that sharp laugh. That abrupt call falling against the hush of the rain, guttering the gray as it lapses into black. The whole sky seems a riot, the calm scattered like some less enduring flock. For a moment the world is endless. For an instant life is all there is.
I mind my place, shivering along the...
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The moment shatters, opened wide by that sharp laugh. That abrupt call falling against the hush of the rain, guttering the gray as it lapses into black. The whole sky seems a riot, the calm scattered like some less enduring flock. For a moment the world is endless. For an instant life is all there is.
I mind my place, shivering along the...
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a gathering dust
It is all branch and wind, though then you did not know it. Then it was all the way the stars sifted down like that dream of first snow of the season. Brittle bright, and cold all the way through, the wind spoiling for a fight. That press of pavement rising through your spine, no moon waning in sight. That surety of...
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It is all branch and wind, though then you did not know it. Then it was all the way the stars sifted down like that dream of first snow of the season. Brittle bright, and cold all the way through, the wind spoiling for a fight. That press of pavement rising through your spine, no moon waning in sight. That surety of...
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wings
There is only air and effort, the shape of keen wings carving ladders from the wind. The days struggle by, full of broken oaths and the early-bird robins. Crows on the streetlamp, sparrows feeding in the green beside the meridian. Cranes and egrets on the wing in the gray tailed dawn. Woodpeckers heckling squirrels just past the window. The vultures rise above it all,...
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There is only air and effort, the shape of keen wings carving ladders from the wind. The days struggle by, full of broken oaths and the early-bird robins. Crows on the streetlamp, sparrows feeding in the green beside the meridian. Cranes and egrets on the wing in the gray tailed dawn. Woodpeckers heckling squirrels just past the window. The vultures rise above it all,...
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magnitude
The cold clings, like the sifted light of stars. It clings, that fearsome chill of time beyond knowing. The world slows on and on, the winter wind and the stolen moon. I huddle down here with trees and pavement. That least veneer that is the common character of every life. A shimmer, then a shiver. Darkness always that distance left to light.
I wear...
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The cold clings, like the sifted light of stars. It clings, that fearsome chill of time beyond knowing. The world slows on and on, the winter wind and the stolen moon. I huddle down here with trees and pavement. That least veneer that is the common character of every life. A shimmer, then a shiver. Darkness always that distance left to light.
I wear...
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in the blood
Just like that the weather changes, the sun swept away, curling tails of smoke lost is this sudden gray. I read a little while longer, my coffee going cold, ash flecking my every touch. It is funny to feel that feeling as it leaves, fingers going cold and numb. Smoke leaving lips, steam whipped into the gathering wind.
You have that astonished...
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Just like that the weather changes, the sun swept away, curling tails of smoke lost is this sudden gray. I read a little while longer, my coffee going cold, ash flecking my every touch. It is funny to feel that feeling as it leaves, fingers going cold and numb. Smoke leaving lips, steam whipped into the gathering wind.
You have that astonished...
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release
There is the song of the gull, gliding alone in that swathe of gray. There is the sprawl of mud and weeds, stones and the first glimmerings of spring. There is that dissolution, smoke and steam and the upended sky. There is the rain, there is the chill, there are wings unfolding above. The bonds of the earth endure in these tensions without respite....
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There is the song of the gull, gliding alone in that swathe of gray. There is the sprawl of mud and weeds, stones and the first glimmerings of spring. There is that dissolution, smoke and steam and the upended sky. There is the rain, there is the chill, there are wings unfolding above. The bonds of the earth endure in these tensions without respite....
Read More