Licking Off LightI was surprised to find that you were afraid of the dark. You of all people should have nothing to fear in it. But then again, I too was once aware of the eyes and teeth and hulking spines that could press into shadows. I have heard their slitherings, I have heard the gnashings of their teeth. I grew out of these things, and there was a day where I realized that they did not belong with me, like that day I found that I could touch my toes to the ground as I dangled from monkey bars.Licking Off Light6 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
You never did.
Every night at eight, when the sun was beginning to slide off the expanse of the sky, you would turn on that one lightbulb, sitting like a final tooth in its socket on your desk. It was harsh and painful to the skin of my eyes. You would keep boxes of fresh bulbs under the sink.
One day, in your absence, I took the silken scarf from my head and laid it over the bulb. When you flicked the switch on, you realized what
HorizonLeap of faith -Horizon6 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
you can't be Icarus
with a safety net.
Zen in the Art of Botany"Consider this tree. It is new-grown, younger than you; yet inZen in the Art of Botany6 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
another sense it is far older than I. What does this illustrate?"
". . . I'm not sure."
"How so, roshi?"
". . ."
"What is it about the tree that perseveres?"
"It blooms every spring?"
"That would be renewal."
"It was seeded, and in turn seeds the next generation?"
"That would be continuation."
"It's composed of atoms, which are eternal?"
"Continuation again. Look deeper."
". . . Guide me, roshi."
"How does the tree respond to change?"
"It . . . adapts?"
"Then, adaptability relates to perseverance? In what way?"
The Trees Within UsAs the leaves touched the groundThe Trees Within Us6 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
tears fell from my eyes.
For I have seen what I've become,
the progress of what I am.
I am like a tree in spring
whose leaves brought shade to all.
And as I greet my dearest sunshine
I smiled at how I withstood the fall.
I am like a tree in summer,
basking under the mighty sun.
Celebrated life and its glory
by sharing life and making memories.
I am like a tree in autumn
whose leaves slowly withered.
Yet as my leaves kissed the soil,
a thousand friends I have garnered.
I am like a tree in winter,
blistered by the freezing cold.
But never did I give up hope
I know spring is my home.
Through the seasons I have learned
that our life is like a tree.
Though the winds could bring us down
These winds breathe life into our stories.
And as the leaves touched the ground,
a smile flashed from my lips.
I am glad of what I've become
and the process of becoming it.
An Islander's GuideThe Islander's Guide to AviationAn Islander's Guide6 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
I bemuse the sun
trying to ascend
to her height
the blue above
I don't need...I stare at the seaI don't need...6 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
(Unsympathetic, as always)
And suddenly remember
How to fly.
I cast off my wings
And run through the sand
To the ocean.
My heart is lifting,
I can see past the horizon,
(Never look down)
My toes touch nothing
(You are finally gone)
I dont need wings to fly.
The Tragic Cyclelife starts with a seedThe Tragic Cycle6 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
and grows to become a tree...
---till one cuts it down.
TreeHe is a tree. He burrows into my flesh: thin, white roots twisting around tendons and networking through nerves, drinking blood. I can feel the grasping, greedy needle-tips pressing against my heart, puncturing holes. My lungs are filled with frayed edges, rootlets that go delving into fibrous tissue finding words and worship. It makes me wheeze a disease. My throat is full, bursting with all the things I cannot say around him. He kills me.Tree6 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
But at least he is living off me needs me.
Before he was self-sufficient a seed.
It is progress, of sorts.
DarknessSitting beneath trees,Darkness6 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
Darkness prevails inside.
And so you seek light.
Holding- Contest EntryHolding something simple in our hearts, in our hands.Holding- Contest Entry6 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
The leaves falling down as we try to understand.
And tears fall so simply, but the wind sweeps them away.
Misery grew with the rain that day.
Life runs out real quick, you grow up so fast.
Make each moment last.
You hold in your hands the innocence of days.
What is left cant be swept away.
To this world we are slight.
Always at the mercy of the moon at night.
Existence is up to nature.
You cant hold off demise til later.
Count the rings running round your face.
Youve only so long til its too late.
Flying leapFlying leap6 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
a siren call
on summer days
Lessons for flying and divingMy best friend is a big fan of diving. Me, I'm more of a flying guy. The only difference is that when flying you're not supposed to plummet in the end. I can't say I ever understood the fear of heights. It's the depths that really get to me.Lessons for flying and diving6 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
The last time my best friend went diving he forgot to come back. I'm still waiting. They tell me he's going to rise up some day. He better have, so that I can finally teach him to fly. There's just one trick to it: don't fall. That ain't no rocket science.
ProgressWe shuffle a few paces forward - before coming to a halt again - along a rutted path crawling through a dried-out landscape towards the gates of the Arboretum that lies, so they say, somewhere in the distance. Around me I can hear a few of the Pilgrims muttering a quiet prayer, but mostly people are silent, huddled in their suits, conserving their strength and numbly waiting their turn.Progress6 years ago in Literature Submissions More Like This
Im bored, tired, and irritable and I ache all over my body. Sweat puddles inside my helmet.
Tell story! Tell it! Tell Jesus story!
A little red and angry face peers up at me through a smeared and dusty faceplate. A little hand tugs at the leg of my tunic. My son, heavy blooded, brain damaged, more cadmium than calcium in his bent little legs, keeps asking me for the story again and again. It makes him happy, the story of how Jesus is coming back to save the trees.
Shut the fuck up, Charles, Give it a rest!
Yeah, Jesus - he was a great guy, right. Took the tre