casi
latin dancing, world saving, contemporary painting, french speaking, book reading, mosh pitting, friend meeting, coffee drinking.
Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.
Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.
I'm no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.
All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.
One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square
Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.
my ipod died, so now i just listen to no, virginia on repeat on an old school discman.
the reasons i won't be coming - elliot perlman
sophie's world - jostein gaarder
life of pi - yann martel
bad hair days - pamela bone
the man who mistook his wife for a hat - oliver sacks
my sister's keeper - jodi piccult
1984 - george orwell
cat's eye - margaret atwood
collages - anais nin
in the shape of things to come
metaphorical beings and two dimensional characters. real people suck sometimes.