Northern Lights |
Some nights it seems too hot to breathe. Voices travel like whispers,
calm and undulating. I hear her sigh, but I am waiting for words. When
her eyes speak, they share tears, and exhaustion. The sha...
Posted by on Tue, 21 Jul 2009 06:39:00 GMT |
Humour |
you remain
drawn like a bow
taught as the string
which sings with relief
whos heart is safe?
what refuge can there be?
if you remain
so drawn
archer and cellist
each one pose as you...
Posted by on Mon, 11 May 2009 08:14:00 GMT |
Nights of fire |
Snow Fountains, and Weeping Higan, brush my hair, caress my
breast, filling my face with wonder. A
bed of magnolia blossoms offers itself in sacrifice, that its leaves bruised
might offer comfort ...
Posted by on Wed, 06 May 2009 06:46:00 GMT |
the paucity of truth |
I regret a rather asinine statement I made (already I must digress, forin fact I am always saying the most asinine things, and forking fullwhole barns of regret), for I was insensitive when suggesting...
Posted by on Wed, 08 Apr 2009 15:56:00 GMT |
God is in heaven, and Russia is far away&(help is not coming) |
I am alone in this, but that was my choicewe all know I am not going to Church to prayI pray six days a week at five oclockwith a bottle of Lavand dark eyes from Sabacnever the less I find myself out...
Posted by on Tue, 31 Mar 2009 00:13:00 GMT |
returning |
people have asked me to writedescribe my travelsmy impressionsshare my experienceand I will&one daybut on whos terms?in whos language?Im not speaking of wordsbut the process of thought&.my arrival ...
Posted by on Thu, 26 Mar 2009 11:39:00 GMT |
my response to Woody Allen's "to love is to suffer" |
I suffer from hope...from time and spaceand from the kind of distance which has nothing to do with eitherI suffer foolsas I suffer myselfand I suffer in silencewhen I cannot speak the truthbutLoveLove...
Posted by on Fri, 13 Mar 2009 09:18:00 GMT |
sleeper |
Six thousand six hundred and fifty five dinarsa night carthe oldest wagonan old man rests his head upon his coat while we are carried away to the rythem of an Iron Horse through fields of garbagewher...
Posted by on Thu, 12 Mar 2009 00:30:00 GMT |
south |
But for the company of stray dogs, I walk alone. Barking at their ownshadows, the ragged things yip at my heels, angry and penitent at once. I miss the sound of Her voice, but drifting in and out of ...
Posted by on Sat, 28 Feb 2009 01:57:00 GMT |
Revenant |
drink the the wordsgrowing like wormwoodsatiating thirstlike salt in the handbite your tongue... when you need bloodfor in darkness and in lightthings are born and die...in the eyesand eyes like these...
Posted by on Thu, 26 Feb 2009 06:32:00 GMT |
