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"this is a poem to emma"this is a poem to Emma whom I know in writing only which I trembled to open stomach enslaved to her word recalling only her curls surprise obsession for years to come, because "the ugly girl" who saw ugliness in seeing beauty in hair,"this is a poem to emma"
in face in hands shared moments with me in grass the impossible escape feather-light resting place, she was full of warmth and distrust, believed bodies were selfish, put shame into the hunt, yet turned to me for insight once
the evidence that this was real the evidence is none.
you sl
by ~golde
With What AirWith what shall I cover you today?With What Air
“A blanket, love, it’s chilly”; but I was thinking more along the lines of a metaphor,
a downright lie or a heck of a lot of ambiguity.
You are hurry call out something I see you are air, deliberately vented into this building and carried up to this room. I lie on this floor sustained and surrounded.
Now I will undraw the curtains so that you and light mingle, the sun warming you and warming me by extension; now there are air shadows everywhere and I lie in them, sustained for days until I am surrounded by stagnancy: The air
by ~golde
Cleareryou cannot pretend this isn't getting clearer and clearer your excuses came around the corner, blasting pear-trees apart shapes emerged and went rushing after herClearer
nervously, we're walking against it we brushed past the black stone reindeer. sparkling jets outlined two people on a stone bench,
watching the water and saying,
in the sort of scene they ought to walk around back into the shadows behind the reindeer,
"What did you know?"
in a situation like this a stone reindeer's back wasn't interesting enough to block out words
by ~golde
Random Favourites
Awesome Co-Incidenceit rains when i cry-Awesome Co-Incidence
it is an A W E S O M E(!) co- inci- dence
by ~udrite
Red Line DevotionIt's because I can't find those words that I make you collect yourself into corners, because I can't say with words how I love you that you see it in other places and I wish the red line of my dreams could go straight through to show you where danger lies and where, in my eyes, you are,Red Line Devotion
and there is no way there is no way you could ever stray to that place but like I said, I know, and so luck would have it we write each other songs.
by ~manchaliaina
What I Don'tSo I don't love you is news I read in the paperWhat I Don't
today as I drink my tea and wonder idly at the weather.
Birds have been flocking in off the mountains and you have to wonder
if there's something to fly from. No clouds, no thunder, but the dregs
in my cup form a range of incoherent shapes I find significant. Apparently
I don't love you, because it says so on TV, flashing by on the ticker
in red, between bombings and a celebrity betrothal, and it's so odd
to be so well-info
by ~manchaliaina
four poems about being tiredfor mefour poems about being tired
I.
Well, there's not much meaning to Life just now. She's very busy doing life things, doing dishes and laundry, keeping things in the pantry and finding the floor sometimes in everything else.
The sun comes out, sometimes, so she recharges while she can, and then maybe she has a little less dusting to do. One less hobo freezing on the corner. She schedules coffee breaks, and misses them, of course, but she makes up on the weekends, drops a couple balls down the quarter slot and calls it good.
She's oversexed and everyo
by ~completeaccident
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"Why don't I do something?" echoed the red-headed girl. "Here I am, skipping for all I'm worth, and then you tell me I'm not doing anything. Skip yourself and see how easy it is!" --Pippi in the South Seas
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