Friday, December 17, 2010

Icicle,
Sleeping under wings,
and red stains my eyes!
You whisper, a dissimilar variation of languages
borrowed from ancient ones;
yet! my!life!is!not!exactly!what!i!expected, love.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Bones on bones on bones
and marionette skeletons.
I awake, but there are leftover feathers in my bed!
Staircases and yellow sweaters
still, no longer exist;




I am human, after all.