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Literature Text
Searching for freckled irises
of violet hues
and vibrant blues,
so stunning in the silences.
I care not for garish plumes,
just your amber rings,
such alluring things,
you award me with your blooms.
of violet hues
and vibrant blues,
so stunning in the silences.
I care not for garish plumes,
just your amber rings,
such alluring things,
you award me with your blooms.
Literature
thanksgivings
Thank you
For new things, like spring, and tea
Given to me by Lynn at a coffee shop
So I don’t ditch my diet and give in
To falling back into soda pop.
Thank you
For the blessings in disguise, like
My A/C going out not 9 months after
Install and having to open windows
During the loveliest spring we’ve ever had.
Thank you
For friends that still hang out
With friends that hate me, so I can spy
On how tiny they still are and how much
We have all changed. Does the hurt
Still matter anymore? I don’t think so.
I love them, even if they don’t love me.
Thank you
For growing,
For new leaves in the spring.
I stood under them today while downtown,
Basking in their tenderness, admiring
The electric green
That is only there for awhile
Before they toughen for the hot summer.
Standing there while listening to the
Idle chat of a brother and sister,
I realized just how much I am like these trees.
Budding, spreading, getting my roots deeper
And deeper
Ev’ry year.
Making the most
Of the new
Literature
From This Day Forward
November 21st
St. Marguerite d'Youville Church
Sacristy
Los Angeles, CA
1:22 P.M. "Nick," Maya said patiently while attempting to redo my tie properly which was a bit difficult seeing how I was fidgeting, stepping from one foot to another, "I can't do this right if you don't stand still."My assistant was doing her level best to fix the problem but she wasn't having an easy time of it with me fidgeting every few seconds. Though I thought of her as a younger sister and loved her as such, I had to admit that she was really beginning to get on my nerves at this point.I made a face. Sounds like Miles when he tried to do the same thing and I...
Literature
coffee paint
i watch the coffee pot do cannonballs
through the air and bellyflop into the
kitchen wall-
glass licks the air in cartwheel spins
and coffee stains melt down the paint and boil
into the wood of the cutting board like
liquid sandpaper
and i think to myself-
this is better than a picasso.
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beautiful words 