

The Fountain Rusted OutThese days I wake up quite clothed and do not even remember that you left of your own accord, and that I had so many hooks in my pocketsThe Fountain Rusted Out
that I never tried on the roof of your gaping mouth,
I am happy, now. He could not have known,
as he lay his metal down,
that we would seal and smooth it I could never have dreamt your palms on my leg, casual, demonstrating with quick fingertips that you have a screen,
much like mine, a need the same, and lips
not so distant as they felt nights and nights ago,
and now you ponder it is hard to think of Sweet Little in the whi


Pharisees and EvangelicalsDead fathers and born-again mobsters talk frankly about welts on pale calvesPharisees and Evangelicals
and broken arms for blades of grass,
crying behind the shed to God who shouldn't ought to let this be
and they grow up to be absent and drunken, a man whose morality is not to rape or kill, a man who holds everything like a weapon.
What he did with her willing skin at sixteen was a sin, but only a sin like the fishing rod across the backs of his legs in a culture where it's ever the ends ends ends, not the means,
but it's the means that teach men to run from their wives and boys,  


The Familiar DiseaseThat frayed-edged patch of cyan cannot belong in the sky today, when a woman is given a thin allotmentThe Familiar Disease
a slither of life to finish her living
There's a thing in her, you say flat, a cancer that won't translucent suck a coral thumb, and in six, nine, twelve months,
it will grow to kill her
and I don't know what to say to you because I've never touched a frayed edge of a life,
I've only seen green faces in open coffins of bodies that used to be real, and I don't what to say
perhaps if we learnt to just always protect, always trust, always hope,


Frust.Content is a long handFrust.
pondering fingers over my waist while he knows, wordlessly,
that I am a ripe-fleshed woman. The sun sank and it could not be the same
again once it rose again and caught us and the waves tore off my thin peach-red skin, because you are a moving man.
My pieces of seed are burrowed in so many soils coffee-foamy, rich, but not a single one
can grow for the thick black lid all over that earth and I fret.


QuantamHe has large canines. But he is torn between puncturing your heart or swallowing your flesh.Quantam
--------------- She's a Gemini, like everyone else. A two-track mind which shows her the world in a way that she wishes others could. She's such a lonely soul; like no other. --------------- He's modelled himself on leaders of old. But with noone to lead, he is lost in the woods; the only place where he sees a clear path. He finds his own piece of Serenity. A rudderless boat in a perfect storm. --------------- She seeks inspiration through tears, to live and be beautiful to others. Because it's too easy for her to


FabricCan't you see you're tearing at my stitching? Unraveling and distangling, you make your own way through the forest towards the labyrinth.Fabric
Maybe I'm the minotaur, stuck in my own labyrinth. Maybe i just need some yarn to lead me back home. But yours is not yours to give. It belongs in another.
I've been in here for years, decades, eons. But there are others that could use your nimble, delicate, fingers to get what they need. There are always others.
I'm just a doll, perfect and porcelain. Wrapped up in a scarf and a cardy made of teardrop string.
Always others that need your fingers.


Enjoy Your RabbitWe went further than before, A cold night stung with mosquitoesEnjoy Your Rabbit
first catching flowers stole from vines
In the hours of mist I remembered why I loved her soul bleeding over stronger than lust In a room with a teal moon mouths cracked like cellos, ripped her dress just to
pull it closer again, the soul-stretching sound
In the panic I heard things I couldn't know, Beautiful demon-voices that rose above graves
You brought God close and then he rowed away, when I awoke I would smile and hug the world
inside the blue-white covers &nbs


The Glass FountainWe're tree-stuck: Starry albino nests, Wombing fictitious maps Like pressed flowers; Everything as it is.The Glass Fountain
We stare on like
Horizon-reel meadows; Witnesses to the Quartz whistle Of floating anthelia
And with buoying
Cherub blossoms In our breath Knocking about like Icicle chandelier chatter
We open like keys, Our convincing human-jackets Left at the door; With no gauge to hold
A world
Of open cages
Of disengagements From the aching minim The thirsty thews N
| I'm finding outlets and inspirations in the hope of becoming interesting. |
--
You've got the answer, but it lasts
as long as you can smile, and pretty
soon your cheeks will begin to hurt.
--
The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep...
And miles to go before I sleep
-Robert Frost
--
The world is an eraser for these words
- Jack Kerouac
we must destroy that which contains us
< i > insert text here < / i > (italics)
< b > insert text here < / b > (bold)
< sub > insert text here < / sub > (small)
--
scott
Previous Page12345...Next Page