Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Shine bright, Lavinia.

Hey there, Lavinia.
What did you sell today?
"It's night. It's over." I hear you say.
When you remember, will you pay?

My innocent Lavinia.
Have you painted in the dark?
Daylight be nature's truest narc
And shame can't erase the brush's mark.

Come on, Lavinia.
Truly what's your biggest threat?
Bliss is in the freedom to forget.
You can't sell your name to pay your debt.

Monday, February 25, 2013

Love Liberates

I saw you dancing yesterday 
In my dreams
Your feet were clay
What a strange and lavish creation
And how you swayed on your foreign foundations.

You'll never really be that flame
You'll not dance
Your feet are tame
You threw away your one, true salvation
Too scared of love and your own liberation.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Threading Tangibility

A marble, shimmering,
rolls across every ridge,
sweeps between every groove
of an aging floor,
in a house that fades.
bleached to the palest form
of some semblance of red.
Sweat glides down my back,
through my spine.
I'm hot, dry
from the heat of it,
this house,
this chair.
Just when you start
to doubt,
to fall into eternity,
the air burns,
and you feel the fire.
The world has a thousand pictures,
but when you are effected
you are here.

Monday, February 11, 2013

On the edge of dusk.

Did you know
I wanted to wow
The world?

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Under the Cover of Day

There are those few
days with the clouds
hovering over and through us.
It is then I take it,
cream in my coffee, larger
breakfasts, and longer,
lingering dreams.
On those early days
when I marinate in it,
the delight of personal allowance,
I push to worry.
A prepared concern,
reminding myself,
"It is those who have
known fear, that truly realize
safety."

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

"It runs along Southern."

I hear
it, the foreboding force
of a hot pushing
river of steam. Screaming
out the unsettled conscience,
a swift seeping of
bold, boiling longings for
others, for changing. Me,
I marinate in it, in it's healthy
poignancy. Nervous with it's involvement,
it's knowledge of my potential, I lean
deeper into my porch steps. Oh, how
trains cut through thirsty paintings,
leaving only tracks
of fear and dangerous
new ideas. I want
only not to
doubt, to
wonder.


Monday, February 4, 2013

God.

Once there was
a cat,
hidden,
hungry,
and completely wild.
I went to it
the rescuer,
open,
offering,
and guided by helplessness.
We came together
a shadow in the sun,
considerable,
imminent,
and then it bit me.