* no wind moaning no shutters flapping . doors standing still in the darkest night . heat rising piercing through as light enters the crack . at daylight no crickets or frogs telling stories . just the heavy stillness of some summer nights . away from breezed seas laying awake interspersed . . Filed under: […]
Up in Smoke, 2013
Rispondi
* we all do what we know best . God sees no bottom he sees now clear . we hold no guilt he says, cause we felt not . he coughs as a dog who just shitted . others may step on . dark eyes set narrow and near he still carries . I don’t […]
* the best of all times comes when I such enjoy stillness I do not . need words to describe fullness, feelings lined up nameless do not need . recognition sounds afar as on my shoulders sounds near so close blood runs and cries . such as the earth sights for water received deep down […]
* – Paolo, pick up your eye she yells, I hear giggles . I felt swarms of eyes following my steps . his married one must have been . heavier for the neighbors to notice . . Filed under: Poetry
* the nuns frowned at me a wet blanked on the upward holy smoke of prayer . God would no speak to little girls another door slammed . on its squeaky hinges not sure which sound was more painful . . I had bought for the occasion a dark gentle wool kilt – I felt […]
* an enclosed space at the nuns I liked the candies for sale . to jump rope to play ball rare smiles rising . they wanted no males around we were separated . there was peace productivity and what they . called purity I loved this one it was like a long . silence of […]
* I was eager to learn it was nuns who thought me . how to peel fruit apple pears even potatoes to crash nuts . to set the table to embroidery carefully to sing in a church . to listen to the silence in between to look for light breaking . darkness through sliced windows […]
* I could have been an altar boy I sung in the choir . and run outside to sell newspapers I could care less . for what people said or their looks I had a fire . some gentle wind comes once in a while I burn the same . . Filed under: Poetry
* I spend more time ruminating than whispering . see what’s wrong? I wish to slow down time and ordering . space never enough not enough sleep or altered visions . reality isn’t far from those pews they would lock me into . maintaining my pureness till the end of purpose a clear chalice . […]