This failing butterfly Spirals towards Earth. Her reddish hues speak to me of transformation, A drift towards graves, and Suddenly oxygenated venous blood That will never return again to the heart. This leaf will become mulch, and be reborn First green, then yellow. But her sisters, she whispers to me Gliding into my ear, In ancient groves, have already fallen and Like the men of Antietam Can rise no ...
last night i straightened up the house, before i curled under the blankets bent to pick up a piece of moonlight off of the floor the other morning we were a black and white movie, gorgeous shadows, blue moonlight shining down on our hands after i'd massaged your fingers and you to sleep i stared down at the poetry of our limbs - ...
got in it the mail today you jumped for joy ran to tell your friends turned on the gas while i was walking thinking of him his son our life together my coworker - too long in the hospital, and her family just left yesterday they live out of state the weather turned when she got sick at least i noticed her old "friends" suddenly found more laundry ...
who wrote those lines who reads her lines? what etched them beside her lips, under her cheeks, into her frowns. why were they never erased, softened does she remember him anymore or is he enfolded in the crease beneath her lids. who danced the can-can on this stage, in the chorus on broadway, where did she go to reach this place and does she remember where she came from ...
my essay is waiting to write me my dreams are waiting to kill me my death is waiting to live were you a nightmare was that a kiss have i lost my mind or did it lose me i cannot tell illusion from moonlight and i think that i'm awake though i know i'm still - someday something will tap my shoulder an alarm will sound i will realize that i've never ...
Recent Comments
