the shape of things. |
i don't recognize his face any longer. the high, wide planes of cheekbones. the way smiling crinkles the skin into half moons just under the eyes. faint freckles splashed across skin. not even the sha... Posted by on Sun, 13 Apr 2008 11:34:00 GMT |
O heavy heart. |
although the salt lingerson these bruised and cracked lips, the sting brings me to the horizon where i cansee best even through eyes swollen with grit.O Lord! i am blessed witha fortitude born of my m... Posted by on Tue, 01 Apr 2008 19:20:00 GMT |
its easier when youre free. |
i see double, but i see crystal clear. crisp.unwavered, but not unscathed.how do you say i love youwithout giving up something?. take it. i almosthate it. i knowi’m gaining strength. stretchingf... Posted by on Mon, 24 Dec 2007 22:18:00 GMT |
ode to jeans. |
they'll give out someday, but I'll love them every moment until then and recallthem fondly, even after.they give and flex exactly as desired.no resistance--no ambition,other than curving along sinews ... Posted by on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 00:00:00 GMT |
let it begin. |
well, for those of you that know i've been seeking, for many months it seems, for a job in portland. and now finally after many tears and many frustrations i've been offered a position and i have acce... Posted by on Sun, 06 Aug 2006 08:09:00 GMT |
downer with a heavy heart. |
with a sudden explosion of breath, it startles me: i've never owned my dreams. only thoughts. the kind that fade in and out and change in color from red to gold. then silvery, fine and dust... Posted by on Mon, 19 Dec 2005 16:25:00 GMT |
for him |
feeling electric,as though my nervesare stretching on end. fighting.always pushing sunward--attempting to make it through the skin and finda home in this comfort. Posted by on Wed, 19 Oct 2005 12:13:00 GMT |
washing words |
unfolding stars, like careful origami.i never get it right. fleetingfrom my fingertips,i let them go unchallenged.although never unscathed,but free anyway,they joyfully bridgethe division. Posted by on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 00:00:00 GMT |
no, not really. |
if traveling through time were allowed, i'd save up all my quarters. Posted by on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 00:00:00 GMT |
(sometime in february) |
this craving, this itch-a fiery impulse.bold and raw and wet.a language offingertips. and tongues-delving. questioning. marking.owning. Posted by on Mon, 01 Jan 1900 00:00:00 GMT |