Thursday, April 30, 2009

earthfeathers (pt. 2)

"show me,"
she sang,
her arms fluttering upwards to the sky
the leaves were falling but she was moving higher,

"embrace me,"
she happily screamed,
her hair looking like feathers in the wind

inside her eyes were pools,
and wells of honeycombed ice castles,
her lips were brandy wine and
every time i glanced down at her hands,
(which were so delicate, i could never forget)
lullabies surrounded me

we were one kingdom
and one hope-
winking at a place that was to come,
a fragrant rose not yet in bloom
seeds in the forest
seeds in the packages in the grocery
seeds in my hand

as my fingers graced her champagne wings
ivory tears
staining my cheeks

she will not flutter off, however - - - -


(we were always here)

my mind is a still ocean
with gentle waves,
white noise-
whisperings of golden fragments and labial pronunciations
i will not disappear
or fall deeper into the sea

and i knew,
i always knew i would go with her
the threads around my wrists unraveling,
creating pulleys and weights and propelling me higher

distance stretching further beyond us
we are still one kingdom
awarded a single crown
love prevailing

i always believed her
i kiss her forehead
i still feel safe

Thursday, April 23, 2009


"maybe follow me,"
she whispered,
her wings sparkling from the light pouring through the branches

"follow me,"
she told me,
as we spoke about galaxies on her bed

her phone keeps beeping, but she doesn't want to be without me
the messages keep getting rejected from being unopened,
moving from mobile to mobile like bouncing checks

the silence here is so heavy it feels like a void,
a vacuum i can immerse myself in,
i can't help feeling, however, as if there's others existing here too

her wings smell like fresh, sweet earth
she knows she could take me far away from here
but i don't want to be anywhere else

she will not flutter off - - - -


(we are still here)

my mind seems perpetually nomadic though; i wish i could stop thinking about that bearded man with the paper cup, reaching up to the sky, asking God for change...
or maybe just hoping he will disappear

the threads around my wrist will not take me up,
but maybe if i went with her,

2,504 miles
(she found it on the map)

i still believe her

i still feel safe

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

grey gardens,
your father in those photographs,
his eyes were shimmering
"halo, halo, halo"
i keep thinking

jeremy the fox whispered in my ear
the names of ancient cities
i smiled, but the buzzing wouldn't stop

behind your architectured forms,
the streams were spinning
constellations reshuffling
under my feet

my hair becomes braided, ropes in
the wilderness
i exhale, but it's all still

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

suitcase of fireflies
garage sales and old churches selling records
histories attach
the sun is shining, for the first time in six months
and all i want is it to be dark
to sit in my backyard
in the grass
hear the cicadas (which, i remember, mark ate when he was drunk that one time)
and be with you

i am light
i am light
i am light