Tuesday, March 23, 2010


i am always shaky in the dusty mornings
when lighter-than feather thoughts
awake from their shuttering cocoons
and the sun sits next to me, in my fisted but delicate hands

whispering violet'd but opaque desires
through a coffee filter,
"i have become slower,
i have become at peace,
i have become a lover, but yet,"
and red bursts from beside my head!
o, and granules of sparkling water
are present still, in my almost-sister's weathered boots

like suns shining, we are!
her treasure walked through the painter door
hands morphed inside constellations,
draped above the slow breath she leaves,
a mobile in the night, and silenced waterbodies, held by plants.

had we held her as a child, (do not falter now)
maybe a painter would have emerged from her cracking bones
maybe a wonder would have appeared on the corner of madison
well, try to change my nested qualities
you will not, you will not, you will not
a drawing, lost in a sea of leaves
and even spherical candles cannot whisk you into a life undeserved

Friday, March 19, 2010

We are walking to a meadow
a little girl slept there
while her thoughts ran free
and wildflowers stained the seam of her dress

Thursday, March 18, 2010

under blankets
in the morning, and at dawn
black, just black, I noticed
in the core of
some differing notation
"I can be near, I can," but yet!
A movement under ninth,
a drab harmonium,
or a dreaming among wolves?
Through sketched maps of a future colony
I saw
hands enwintered,
or ruins raised up,
or braids disassembled
all while drinking tea in the meadow,
which we knew
would grow and become a garden.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

"Yes, and even serrated misanthropes sleep in the dungeons of their darknesses,"


in a stuffed catalogue
we are three, astropomorphic
and greatest limericks bursting
through raspberry groves, where
i had (so violently, inside) left
the painted door cracked open
an invitation, into
a paralleled kingdom, but lips
were shivering under riverbeds
of drowned fragments
that had fallen from our lips!
and Yet!
Restored gradients, from metallic streams
but where had the dissimilar misogyny come from?