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Beekeeper12.13.12More Like This
I read a book once about
a beekeeper who
spoke to the bees
with her thoughts,
"I love you. I love you.
I love you. I love
you."
and so I decided
to do the same.
Please do not
misinterpret me,
I do not wish to
trap you with my love,
I do not cry out,
"Love me. Love me.
Love me. Love
me."
In fact, I do not
want your love at all
if it is not
all-consuming and
desperate to reach me
as if it were a plant
thirsty for the sun,
but do not be surprised
if I close my eyes
and chant silently,
"I love you. I love you.
I love you. I love you."
and you start to feel
that you are someone
wonderful and cherished,
Systematic Amnesia [10.2.12 Daywrite]They came for us at four in the morning. We had stayed up all night, of course we had, peering out of the windows into the darkness, foreheads pressed up against the icy glass. Our breath fogged our vision, but it didn't matter. We knew no number of sentries could keep us safe when they finally came.More Like This
So they waited most of the night, just one more step in their game of playing with our minds. We were tired when they came, fearful. Edgy. But they arrived in silence, just a whisper as they surrounded our house.
Then Cole's cell phone rang. Its trill in the deathly silence shocked us all out of whatever level of unconsciousness we ea
Second SphereI found part of me by accidentMore Like This
in a Parisian cardboard box
with satin rags; purple ink
depicting people and clouds.
Tungsten from the wires
of lightbulb husks.
He kicked my hand when I pulled him out,
my fingers caught up in the blonde.
Here there are boys who count
the golden rings of Saturn,
and retinas that lick up the sunset.
Pictures of Japanese lanterns on the sea-crest
and swarms of orange fireflies.
Girls who do not dot
their I's with hearts,
and wait for iodine skies
with slow, dripping
thunder.
Sta.sh
