sometimes i just think of little vignettes, and I have no idea where the poem is supposed to go. I thought I would list them here in case I am inspired once more.
Or maybe, three lines makes a poem? Probably not though.
-----
the words won't come out
my throat, rough and raw,
from breathing through an open mouth
Friday, December 17, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
anxiety.
I feel in my heart, a wheel turning
like the cogs of a clock steadily churning,
Unwound and rewound,
hidden between empty expansive lungs,
brittle tissue sacs and blue cooled blood,
thick and sticking like day old mud,
all the while, the last fibers of my heart beat,
a thundering stampede, erratic and frantic,
like a parade of elephants running 'cross the chest
Pressure burning like iron branding the flesh.
like the cogs of a clock steadily churning,
Unwound and rewound,
hidden between empty expansive lungs,
brittle tissue sacs and blue cooled blood,
thick and sticking like day old mud,
all the while, the last fibers of my heart beat,
a thundering stampede, erratic and frantic,
like a parade of elephants running 'cross the chest
Pressure burning like iron branding the flesh.
Monday, December 6, 2010
dry air.
crack open a window
i cant breathe in this
dry hot air like a desert
filling the room.
my lungs are crumbled,
starched straight and fragile,
like fine grains of sand
in between sheets of papyrus.
i'm wheezing from the smoke
the stain of harsh yellow
on my breath
so i shut my mouth
to hold in the clean air.
my skin is in a cover,
a sheet of dry dirt that is
hungry for the easy humidity
of clouds crying in a rainforest
where the air is heavy with condensation.
when will this dryness end,
when will i feel something
feel a hand holding mine
without the agony of shriveled
and cracked skin?
feel moisture on my tongue,
cool water on dry breath?
i cant breathe in this
dry hot air like a desert
filling the room.
my lungs are crumbled,
starched straight and fragile,
like fine grains of sand
in between sheets of papyrus.
i'm wheezing from the smoke
the stain of harsh yellow
on my breath
so i shut my mouth
to hold in the clean air.
my skin is in a cover,
a sheet of dry dirt that is
hungry for the easy humidity
of clouds crying in a rainforest
where the air is heavy with condensation.
when will this dryness end,
when will i feel something
feel a hand holding mine
without the agony of shriveled
and cracked skin?
feel moisture on my tongue,
cool water on dry breath?
snow.
snow falls on my dreams
while i sleep, like
a tree fallin in an empty wood
quiet as a smile
sharp like cracked lips
and crinkled skin
in the winter chill.
you are there with me
the white in your hair
like you are wiser and
softer with the magic (of the
snow snow snow)
the color marking the years
gone by with nary a word
just a twinkle in your eyes
quick like the glimmer of
neon lights on the subway panes
i hug you like i would the ocean
grip you tightly and watch
you slip between my breasts
and hands and soul
leaving me ice cold and
standing alone on the train stop
watching the tail lights
of your train, your soul leaving me
while i sleep, like
a tree fallin in an empty wood
quiet as a smile
sharp like cracked lips
and crinkled skin
in the winter chill.
you are there with me
the white in your hair
like you are wiser and
softer with the magic (of the
snow snow snow)
the color marking the years
gone by with nary a word
just a twinkle in your eyes
quick like the glimmer of
neon lights on the subway panes
i hug you like i would the ocean
grip you tightly and watch
you slip between my breasts
and hands and soul
leaving me ice cold and
standing alone on the train stop
watching the tail lights
of your train, your soul leaving me
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