December 2010
1 tag
“To create for a purpose is to work,” she said. Art is creation by the hands of the devil inside of you. The pesky demons that have breathed inside of you, that have uttered speech and broken the silence. It is they who have made you, who have wrinkled the space in which you exist to give rise to this big bang of a person. Because the essence of man was born with clanking of forks and...
1 tag
wander
for though we grow comfortable
in our nest of sheets
the world calls, she beckons
she pulls us up despite our wishes
but we shall face
the newness of the world
and see how far we can go
make each other our comfort
into the unknown,
ourselves unbeknownst
in the darkness of night
a strange feat
to walk to such a strange beat
we will hold hands
and hold our breaths
and jump
into the...
1 tag
rain dance
time goes by
and faces grow long with consideration
take your time
your feet take to dancing
and you never want to stop
the rain dance has consumed you
for the good of the people
you have danced and danced
have you ever considered that
they want you to stop?
and you still keep dancing
and you raise your palms to them
you read every movement
and strain to hear the whispers
excited...
2 tags
I. The Morning Routine
And I awake
To a chorus of cracking ankles,
Our eyes barely open,
We trade morning breath.
We giggle.
We press our lips up against the glass
See our breath,
Fog.
We are warm on the inside,
Happy.
Whispered lyrics linger
From the night before.
And in my head I say,
“This shall be the morning routine.”
Every morning, I will awake,
And I will kiss you with all my might
...
1 tag
II. Theives
Figure eights,
My fingers skate along your snowy skin.
And we will prolong goodbye.
And we will hate the gap in between,
The beckoning call of day,
But we will greedily drink hello
Greasy remnants running down our chins
Gluttonously stealing time in the night.
Theives.
Lovers.
Ghosts.
We will vanish from the earth.
For no one will see us,
As we see not them
In our huddled form,...
