Growing oldThe sunlight is never as thick as I remember, Hanging like honey in the hot, thick air, trickling Down faces, wetting eyelashes to sharp arrays As it flows idly between fingers and into mouths To preserve those days like a butterfly in amber – And when held up to the harsher light of today Those lazy times are lit with a diffuse golden glow Like mist above the calm waves of an evening ocean, And beckons gently, tempting my weary eyes to close And rest awhile in the quiet places of my youth: Gardens where I walk barefoot in the warm, silent earth Plucking pink rGrowing old
Untitled 3The last gift you gave to me –Untitled 3
left over from the age before you stopped making wings for those unexalted heroes you adore a web of sinew strung with pearls pulled taut over a grapevine hoop that hang
Untitled 2It is not enough to write songs and roar them from your neighbor's roofs. There are days when breathing is exhausting and your voice falls into brutal sleep, dreaming as a dog may with open eyes to fool unwary watchers as they pass. The silence may be fragile but stillness grows until you are a lake inside a cave, smooth and soft like feathers waiting for a breeze of syllables to break the tension in your throat. Are you drowning? Shall I crack your chest and shake your words to waking? No. When last I saw your voice it wore bruises like rare gemsUntitled 2
Every man she kisses diesEvery man she kisses diesEvery man she kisses dies
The first, smothered by small white moths while breakfasting in May their pale wings gently caressing his dry lips as they danced lazily around him in the cool morning air landing on his eyelids and unfurling themselves to give twice the eyes, though all were blind; what wonders they thought to find in his lungs who can say but that they must have been quite sweet to drive them that far down his throat.
At the table in the middle of her garden with wisteria creeping up its legs and mos
-Miyavi-
Faery FeastOne evening in June You and I slipped out of time and escaped to the faery feast; breathed in the honey air, kissed the willow wisps, and watched the fireflies dance by the creek. We ate the fruits of Venus and coveted their stones-- wrote messages on them and hid them in our pockets as talismans. Laughed with sparrows late into the night recounting romances and getting drunk on moon, and rose petals, and blackberry wine. Plotted ways to stop the sun from erasing the darkness and dissolving the evidence into morning dew. &nbFaery Feast
Beach
It's Hot
AND I'LL DO IT IN THE FORM OF A 3 PIECE SHAKESPEARIAN SONNET.
(Nobody want's that)
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alis volat propriis
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happy noises
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alis volat propriis
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alis volat propriis
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And then again...
life.
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alis volat propriis
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