illuminate–
thunder past design
sight unrepressed
hear it and stream past into living
sound–
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
dear tumblr,
your little plastic castle
the words made big falling out the windows–
we both have nameless sayings
nameless ways
tied to great expanse
call it a forging of sight
the shelf on the wall
solitary holding of other:
the return of empty filled me
swelled the loneliness and flooded breath
until her silence came again like a concert
of strings
tying together meaning and strength
your little plastic castle
the words made big falling out the windows–
we both have nameless sayings
nameless ways
tied to great expanse
call it a forging of sight
the shelf on the wall
solitary holding of other:
the return of empty filled me
swelled the loneliness and flooded breath
until her silence came again like a concert
of strings
tying together meaning and strength
Friday, September 24, 2010
trinkets
it's this light that keeps
escaping between the folds
of fabric
and glass
the gentle posture of shoulder against sun
it's this oddly shaped memory that doesn't fit
in any of the small boxes tucked in drawers
holding old skin, hairpins and buttons
little things made big
seems only a fragile lifting of letting go
will do away with this quiet nonsense
made like steel glory in the corner of our eyes
little stones in my pocket–
not so innocent shrines in the cupboards
you speak of letters like they carry the memory
and not you
like a ritual fire will cleanse and hitting replay is a sin
govern the light
illuminate fingertips
pass out the day and dawn new intention
curtsy to the clock and slip it a kiss
it knows circles and anchor
escaping between the folds
of fabric
and glass
the gentle posture of shoulder against sun
it's this oddly shaped memory that doesn't fit
in any of the small boxes tucked in drawers
holding old skin, hairpins and buttons
little things made big
seems only a fragile lifting of letting go
will do away with this quiet nonsense
made like steel glory in the corner of our eyes
little stones in my pocket–
not so innocent shrines in the cupboards
you speak of letters like they carry the memory
and not you
like a ritual fire will cleanse and hitting replay is a sin
govern the light
illuminate fingertips
pass out the day and dawn new intention
curtsy to the clock and slip it a kiss
it knows circles and anchor
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
a quick thought
frantic search
the quiet of touchless sight
expel--- fathom judgeless morning
where white walls and windows, salt and sentence
replace narrow escape
gravel under her feet fosters rhythm
while the street light resembles her other life
a young hip
and a lit match
the quiet of touchless sight
expel--- fathom judgeless morning
where white walls and windows, salt and sentence
replace narrow escape
gravel under her feet fosters rhythm
while the street light resembles her other life
a young hip
and a lit match
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