April 2011
13 posts
Fingernails Crossed
Bought a nail polish called eternal optimist.
Here’s to hoping it works.
Twenty-Seven
Climb the fire escape, sweet one, swing the ladder down
Mark your soles like a wanderer, sip the sky’s tail
It’s a sandpaper spring and a stow-away heart
“The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say.”
—Anais Nin
Mysticism, at its finest
On tuesdays, wednesdays, saturdays, Somedays
the unspoken words of our unrequited characters crash
into the hard wood.
The speakers scream
mouthfuls of ceramic tiles painted blue and green –
I’ll mark it on my calendar.
and dance to the sound
of your hair being brushed and
your fingers praying for Magic.
City Spin
“The edge of the sidewalk or the edge of the world?” I ask.
Let your head fuzz, your ears melt and lift unto the night.
When your love sits safe, let this spin.
“I came home to an empty house / Surrendered my thoughts, then I passed out / As the world spinning round / She looked pale as she lifted off the ground / And she said to me don’t go”
—Active Child, She Was a Vision
Broad Leaves
In the morning light bittersweet kissed my hair
Shedding slowly like the feathers from the barn owl I used to love
Molting seems too ugly a word to describe the release
We used to play with Stories in the tall grass
Like finding syllables in seed pods, you’d say
How perfect
