Monthly Archives: June 2011

conscience

with quick and assured movements
she chops off your head, clean
at the spine. you have no defense;
even if you did, what would you
do but lay it at her feet?
like the falling stars, you have
resigned to an earthbound existence.
like a chant, she has infected you.
you didn’t realize when you started
singing the song of her scheming,
a language with no words, a
spell had been cast, and like the
horizon on the edge of the sea
shall no more be lifted.

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imago

Fields of ochre lemon sunshine
reeds tickling my bare thighs
air on my skin like a green light
at the end of a breezy dock,
full like autumn rain and
December dreams. Like a kite,
I have let go of the fantasy,
and instead dig my toes into
the soft earth, laden with worms.
I’m writing to let you know,
all those things I thought,
they never really did exist.


gray

i have run out of colors.
the pen has run dry, the paint
hardened like unfelt desire.
i stand here naked
like an untouched canvas
like a tree in winter
like words without meaning.
my edges have blurred,
my outline gray, smudged
by the brush of your thumb.
and i would rub out these lines
erase the haze of the rising dawn
but for the glow that remains
in the shape of these cones.


aqua

I am a leaf
thrown about on the rocks,
icy cool torrent downstream.

I am a pebble
laying just below the tumult
of the water rushing overhead.

I am the water
constantly seeking to return
to the skies from whence I came.

I am the sky
futilely attempting to embrace
the trees at my feet.

I am a tree
stirred to dance by the wind
laughing beneath my skirt.

I am the wind
rushing just to be
next to wherever you are.


sepia

her thin porcelain arms are draped
around your chocolate suit, flowers
in her hair. her face betrays a smile,
as subtle as the aroma of jasmine tea,
as she glances over your shoulder
at the well-wishers to your right.
you hold the small of her back,
like an egg that might hatch,
your downcast face towards the
steps you must take. the path
is strewn with rice and small children.
you hold the image close in your mind,
lest it grow brown with age
like the tan of your creases
have grown heavy with remembering.


ebony

I walked the streets tonight,
           sidewalks slick with rain,
listening to my friends’ laughter drift
back to me through the cool night air.
The streetlights’ glow magnified by the glass
of darkened windows, square buildings hunched
against the mist, hiding only secrets.
A glimpse down an alley reminds me,
            like turquoise reminds of me of hills,
of the loneliness of foreign towns,
knowing not a soul or a word on the signs,
strangers all around you asleep,
and every piece of me
    save the breath visible in the air,
longed for that feeling again.


emerald

She is either beautiful
          or eating a pear.
She has eyes that can look through
a mirror and see time passing,
a story written in lines.

It’s not true
          that no two are alike.
Washing the green off her, she says,
“It was only blue after all.”

One day, she knows, the walls
will come down
      and she,
she will hear the truth
of the bricks, broken at her feet.