sparrowsparrow8 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
The trees are unsettled, their limbs tossing in the violent tempest -- gauges for Natures wrath or love. The storm plays like a silent film as I sit in the cabin of my car. My old campus gym sits in the distance like a stolid mountain.
The world comes to life in stereo as I step out. Dashing down the side of the parking lot, my umbrella mimics the trees. Trying to avoid the rain, I notice an upturned creature on the wet pavement. I stoop to examine it. Its pale legs stick up like flags of resignation. People must think Im crazy, a university student examining some dead thing. He must be studying taxidermy.
Its a baby sparrow.
Its feathers are maturing over its soft pink underbelly, bunched into a mangy blanket by the rain. Its feet shiver in the wind. Dirt, pine needles, and assorted debris are stuck to its bo
L'Aigle NoirYesterday...I was 6L'Aigle Noir8 years ago in General Non-Fiction More Like This
I pulled her dress to get some attention
She looked at me and smiled
Red lips...black eyes...white dress
She put her brush down
Took a sip from her beer
Lit a cigarette...while Barbara sang in the background
She picked me up
Described the city as a painting
Never being able to settle on one color
Always changing...she laughed...I wondered
She danced to her own music
While fumes filled the room
I was in love with her hair
Never wanted to let go of her dress
She would call me Elle
Tell me never to lose my child's innocence
I would play with paint
Nod my head and giggle
She would talk about fountains
Pebbles that never die
She would smile at strangers
Gaze at happy lovers
She never seemed to be happy
But I felt safe with her
She had a bracelet that glittered in the light
I would play with it
She would laugh at me
Pick me up and do a little dance
On a sunny day
I ran to her
She was sitting on her chair
Drinking a beer
Smoking a cigarette...while Barbara pla
The Blue CoatShe stares out of her window rain fills the empty voidThe Blue Coat6 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Her eyes follow a drop of rain as it slides down the glass
She plays with her hair picks out a split-end
I need a hair cut she thinks to herself
It had been a couple of weeks since she left her city
Denounced her life there moved on to a new adventure as shed like to say
She finally got on that plane never thinking of going back it was final
She remembered that night when she decided to leave chills spread through her back
She was a true collector she collected thoughts, stories, peoples lives and many little things that seemed banal to certain individuals these were her treasures
She laughed at the fact that she was in a country whose language was pure gibberish to her she had no friends, and she had only managed to say hello to her concierge an old man in his seventies he reminded her of a gra
in memory of florence jacksonin memory of florence jackson6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
she wanted to be the beautiful swimmer
the particular condition
of identity blending
dissolving into a glistening arc
she sang the rhythm of the waves to the page
and became the beautiful swimmer
now i am the beautiful runner
insisting my stride through the early evening heat
listening to the disturbance in the trees
as an august wind rips through
may's lilac laden air
attending to the silver uproar of leaves
and remembering her to the sun
We Watched Ourselves Dissipatewe caught our breath with butterfly netsWe Watched Ourselves Dissipate8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
the pieces of each other's wings
that stuck in our lungs.
the sky gave a shiver and the stars
unsealed, their firefly cores shimmering
plucking them from the air, they slip
between our fingertips
and fall like butterfly wings
to the ground.
we conduct the celestial engagement with
our metallic hearts
that control this unsteady rhythm of
and staccato love-making.
like conductors in an orchestra.
our lives write the love songs.
Shady Evenings in Early SpringDrenched in rainwaterShady Evenings in Early Spring10 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
pressing cold fingers to
Small thighs sticking
to your ribcage.
-the leaves were in my hair for days-
but my daffodils finally bloomed by the beach trees.
Saints of San AxolotlEcho birds are as common as muck, and about the same color. Theyre found only in San Axolotl, where they scurry along the paving stones and under the tables of the street cafes, through trash-clogged back alleys and down the walks of rooftop gardens, looking for scraps and seeds. Once you leave the city, though, the echo bird population tapers off within five miles, and the only specimens anywhere else in the world have glass eyes and are wired to their perches.Saints of San Axolotl6 years ago in Fantasy More Like This
Echo birds are not mimics. There are all kinds of mimics in the bird kingdom, from the pygmy mynah to the rare and savage Cassowary Macaw, whose repertoire generally consists of the screams and curses of its last unfortunate victim. Mimicry is no longer a particularly impressive trick. Any old parrot, with time and patience, can learn to whistle the national anthem and make obscene comments, or both at the same time.
The echo bird, however, does something quite beyond mimicry. If you encounter an echo bird, all you will s
untitled with ways to liveThis cigarette burns as if time has stopped,untitled with ways to live8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and you threw your last piece of my heart-
out the window.
100 miles an hour and i've become your cement,
poured and plasted;
these tears run thick.
Pryed away with the rusted spade,
you got your full house;
I've become the all in hand,
in betweenlook, a wise someone once said,in between8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
between the pages 52 and 53
and there you will find
fulfillment, light as the collision of stars
I don't know why, either
but regret is not a pretty thing
to lay out like dried roses
inside the winter of your thicker books
press a sheet worn and soft to your cheek
words leaking from your eyes
an o for your mouth when you went: aaaah
and the indentation of strawberry from
your front teeth, a little too far front
and that's it
nothing else that bright
doesn't it hurt, to
want something that badly?
the sour feeling escaping
up your ribcage and festering in your throat
we didn't just wake up today and dial a number
that fifty pages had fluttered by
and all you get is page 51 on the left,
52 on your right.
All Forms of FailureI'm choking with black tar resin,All Forms of Failure8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Catch my breath with the weathered glove;
I float through like the pieces of me that are broke.
Death is like a game,
With an effort to try and smiles to break me,
I've lost my will try;
CircumstanceYou flickerCircumstance8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
warming me only in your generous and jealous moments.
Your begging is
scalding sweetness quickly dissolving any and all
of my bravery.
dizzying my body and senses effortlessly.
I am heavy
with thought and old habits.
I am strong and conscious
my lungs are not lungs when you speak
but small fires
hot, wild and gasping for air.
Because Of The WarBecause of the war…I diedBecause Of The War9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I lost my sister
She was 6 years old
She had brown hair
She had brown eyes
She always begged to be carried
Thought she would ruin her legs if she ever walked
She loved water and danced in it
She loved to stare into the night
She would laugh and run away
She would tell me we would live forever
We sat in the shelter
Too scared to sleep
She rolled under my arms and sat there
She said she would be safe there
We heard the bombings
That crushing sound
It went pitch black
We could barely breathe anymore
She was looking into my eyes
She knew it was the end
I could only cry, trying to convince her that we will survive
She was smiling
It's okay, we're going to a better place
We can play there and look at the stars
No more sudden sounds
No more blood
No amputated arms or legs
I started to feel sleepy
She was sleepy as well, yet she was still smiling
I smiled back drying my tears
She kissed me and said: I can see stars!
I held her, and breathed my last breath…we
more beautiful We passed mountains by as if they were chords in Johann's first partita - fleeting and right.more beautiful8 years ago in Editorial More Like This
I climbed a tree in jeans that felt like sin, and we sat comfortable in shade laughing at each other and being, magnolia leaves brushing our cheeks and rough bark scraping our hands.
We sat in movie theaters late at night, salt in our mouths, quiet and close.
It's hard not to see, can't you see? You are forcing yourself down. You are breathing slow when you could be gasping and grabbing at your chest, begging for air because you have run too hard and too fast not to. You are kicking up dust under your feet and measuring the time it takes until your hands can no longer grasp pencil or a pen. You are not smiling. You are falling asleep early and waking up still tired, you are whispering in your sleep.
It's hard not to see, have you even tried lately? The cows escaped today, found a break in th
written romancefor too long, I have taken words as my lovers.written romance9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
my heart clutches music in its hands, but
my lyrics-stained skin glows in the dark
why, if I lived in a city like dreams,
the streetsigns and graffiti would grapple
up the stairs and into my apartment
I cannot rest my full weight against their
shoulders, sparse and transparent. but I'll
take their empty promises anyway; the letters
are nothing if not sensual. day after day,
I worry that they will leave me. on my knees
I will swear, conspire my life away if only
they let me write them just one more time.
for no matter how far I get away, how unlonely it
becomes, I always go back to their abuse
It's all in the bonesFathom me, pleaseIt's all in the bones7 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and I'm hard-pressed
to wince a
my cheeks when
your paint is
purring the floor
you draw me in
to sketch me
my misplaced shape
is all hands
and an outline
of skin like
touch & go
'til we've gone
my sonic face
you and we
palms that sculpt
you tear the score
like your fingertips
and naive blue
it's you all over
but far from
this new spin
is what for
in your shoulders
of things to come
all listless sinking
dropped and not
thinking of beaches
wires to rely on
just how we wanted it.
kitestringi used to build last-chance bridgeskitestring8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
that would crumble with the touch of a wish
hanging onto your little sister's fallen eyelash
like a shivering mountain climber.
and as peace shook itself down around my shoulders
i wondered if you've ever wondered why
when, at night, when you stare out at the trees
that sway, serene and alone -
why you, with all your charm and awkward grace
lie by yourself lit up by moonlight
hands behind your head in the shape of a diamond
with the knowledge that if the rest of you does not interfere
too much, you might become a kite
and fly away into the thin atmosphere,
loose and free.
and i know that i used to wonder
as i laid each promise down and pressed it into place
with worn, tired hands -
if i would ever ever be anything more to you
than a kitestring, pulling you back down
reminding you of things you should regret
and patching you up so you can cut away pieces of yourself
with each and every apology
i force upon you, because it is right,
and freedom is some
Buses PassingAbsent eyes, like the passengers in buses passingBuses Passing9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
hidden behind steamed glass,
a cold tide falling between his face and mine.
Holding his gloved hand like a frightened child,
touched by a yearning or a fear,
burning my throat,
a crippled weakness in my pace
where my strength trickled away in new sadness.
He breathes his past from every pore.
He will not speak the lines he writes;
I ache to hear. I want to be
a reason for the words that make me tender and quiet.
The horror he conjures at every sweet step,
the gentle terror he lays upon me
will spoil and twist it all, my life.
Like buses passing, his thoughts are soon elsewhere,
and I must learn not to speak of him again.
skipping lessonsall night long the trees hangskipping lessons8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
with dead things, and we cannot
wake them up
blue and full of yawns
a phone sticky with sweat on the right ear
against the outsides
of our shells
we were taught as children
to take care of fragile things
they are not plates
or windows, or figurines
if only someone had said
this is how you handle
a young heart, and old aches
four sinsI.four sins8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
when the stars were so bright it hurt,
i fought a battle
to pull the light back into your eyes.
three weeks and a coma later your lips moved
forming a red stain in the air - "jesus," you said, "jesus."
i tried my hardest to understand.
please turn on the radio
and drag it to your grandmother
in the room with dusty light and dusty blankets,
she'll hear the dusty grit of static voices
from the old days
she will fall absolutely in love again,
feeling the crunch of an apple and touch of a kiss
on teenage teeth
guilt is the eighth sin
tears you apart with knives and daggers
and a satisfied smile -
i rebuilt frankenstein's monster
inside myself, all for you
watercolor pencilsam I your Tin lily? sn bondswatercolor pencils8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
close enough to double up: I am
giving lessons to twist-turn smiles
and pulling out my hair in gauzy clumps with
great care in preparation for summer.
I'm all tangled. Talk to me,
your Aluminum magnolia, al[l] tangled up
in twist-toss dreams where mouths say wrong things
and covers are mountains, the people cold explorers
gasp water, love, and we no longer walk sidewalks to
convenience stores, holding hands.
there, you bought a full set of sixty watercolor
pencils, now I am Steel daisy spring but then he/
you named me a different color
puddled on the ground in melted sun.
slow wait and wake for intersection lights
to walk illegal days along, heel-toe
careful balance on quick-changing sidewalk edges
The Artist's PrayerThe Artist's PrayerThe Artist's Prayer8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
I thank you
For You have blessed me
You have chosen me
You have given me purpose
I thank You for my gift
For because of its purpose
It is as valuable as the gift of life
With the gift of song You placed in me
The world will sing of Your glory
The lost will sing of Your grace for they are saved
The sick will sing of your mercy for they are healed
Through the gift of writing with which you lead my hands
The world will read of You awesome power
They will read poems of Your never ending love
They will read stories of how You raise the dead
In the pictures and paintings that You inspire me to make
People will see how beautiful all Your creation is
They will see those thousand words which glorify Your name
Lord I thank You for my gift
This amazing talent You have placed upon me
Then I ask that Your hand lead me
Your Holy Spirit guide me
To use this gift only to your honour
I ask that You use this art of mine
To reach those who have gone astray
To let the gospel o
LettersWe were running between the houses and stares.Letters8 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
My coat was too thin.
Had I had asked to be a mess?
I loathed myself for it.
If I were stronger, I wouldn't.
I was cold until numb, you know.
No, you don't know.
You're too busy watching your masses.
Trembling at the thought of me, belatedly.
There is such a thing as waiting too long.
I'm sorry; it was my fault, my fault always.
I'm nothing if perfect.
Wish for your hours back,
Like a ripped dollar bill.
Sleeping is easier, I can treat it like delusion.
I dreamt I woke up, I dreamt you were there.
Never, you said, never ever.
I saw the end like a brick wall and a bomb.
I was still asleep.
The color of leafless trees isn't much to look at,
except in silhouette.
Everything's cheaper in shadow.
We're all the same. What does that tell you?
I don't say much anymore.
It is a gift.