lonelymenagerie.blogspot.com
Through the Bedroom Window: Halves
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Through the Bedroom Window. Saturday, February 20, 2010. If Jack and Rose had spent less time kissing. They might have made it to a lifeboat. They could have both survived. Nothing. Keeps a sinking ship from going under. It still feels unnatural to have breakfast alone,. To stop myself from thinking to grab two forks. And spreading hot sauce on what would have been your half. Remember the night we missed three busses. In a row, the last lifeboats of the night, and we. Were so cold and tired and you.
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Through the Bedroom Window: July 2009
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Through the Bedroom Window. Friday, July 10, 2009. A cemetery full of mulberry trees near Wrigley field,. The fingers of the dead are stained purple. Our lips are stained, too. I gaze at the tight confluence of your jaw. As we lie in the dapple-gray light. Everyone that we love is the ghost. Of a firefly once caught in some glass jar. I dreamed my sleeves were full of crabs. I dreamed I went to the doctor. And she told me everything was wrong. I dreamed that you got married. I wonder how it holds together.
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Through the Bedroom Window: finally summer
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Through the Bedroom Window. Thursday, September 10, 2009. In the last hour of morning. Everyone pretends to be asleep,. Lying still and heavy as the rising heat. Your hand reaches from your sleeping bag,. I feel your fingers on my shoulder blade,. They move like a mouse beneath drying leaves. I am as patient as a seed. Our eyelashes are the dark fringes. Of ferns in the forest. As we pretend to be asleep. The lake tosses, a fitful dreamer,. It is the pause in the air. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom).
lonelymenagerie.blogspot.com
Through the Bedroom Window: spirits
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Through the Bedroom Window. Friday, July 10, 2009. A cemetery full of mulberry trees near Wrigley field,. The fingers of the dead are stained purple. Our lips are stained, too. I gaze at the tight confluence of your jaw. As we lie in the dapple-gray light. Everyone that we love is the ghost. Of a firefly once caught in some glass jar. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). A Year in Pictures. All work privately owned. Please do not use without permission from the author. What would be the point?
lonelymenagerie.blogspot.com
Through the Bedroom Window: Fire Alarm
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Through the Bedroom Window. Thursday, September 10, 2009. Certainly we had been up all night. Filling our mouths with bread and cheese and cinnamon,. Gargling with the stars. And certainly we had made sure the stove was off,. The pilot light burning low. Like a moon on the horizon. But when our fingers touched. The fire alarm began to ring,. Sprinklers sent the whole pajamed house. Stumbling out to the sidewalk. They stared incredulous at our. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). A Year in Pictures.
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Through the Bedroom Window: Cicada
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Through the Bedroom Window. Thursday, September 10, 2009. A cicada, newly risen, navigates my skin,. Beneath the soft unhesitating touch. I too stretch my wings. We have both lain for so long untouched,. Now we unfurl knobbly and new,. Does the soil ache as cicadas are borne up bursting? Summer is a weight on my thighs,. A soreness in my most hidden bones. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). A Year in Pictures.
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Through the Bedroom Window: Vocabulary
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Through the Bedroom Window. Thursday, September 10, 2009. Is it platonic or plutonic? You ask, every time imprecise until I reply,. Though really we are neither, how can we be,. Our eyes half-closed, awake too long, poorly packed in tired skin,. We lie on the porch, two lumpy cigarettes,. Watching the ions of the air. Is too slow for your patience, you say,. All other words plod off on peripatetic feet. Each phrase floats face down,. Silences pass like quicksilver suns. Are we made of shadows or fire?
lonelymenagerie.blogspot.com
Through the Bedroom Window: December 2008
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Through the Bedroom Window. Wednesday, December 17, 2008. You cut the sandwich in half,. Without asking if I wanted half a sandwich. You broke frozen bread in half on your knee. And stuffed it full of shoplifted cheese. You made me feel smart and clever. Though I know I am anyway. A well-meaning charlatan is still a charlatan, they say,. Yeah a well-meaning charlatan is still a charlatan. You poured me a cup of tea. And read such good books to me. We stayed awake til dawn. Yeah I fell asleep at dawn.
lonelymenagerie.blogspot.com
Through the Bedroom Window: (sun)
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Through the Bedroom Window. Thursday, September 10, 2009. In the morning we shared a mango. As pulpy and yellow as the sun. The world gleamed with a summer sheen. So we sat outside and let the leaves. Cast shadows on our hangover eyes. They cast shadows on themselves. How self-contained, those trees,. How quietly they gather in the light. We were pass-out-drunk the night before,. The drunk of scholars sick of words,. The drunk of getting lost, eating snakes,. Falling down steep banks. Lying side by side.
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Through the Bedroom Window: March 2009
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Through the Bedroom Window. Tuesday, March 24, 2009. All colors are changing from gray-white to green. While springtime spins circles and drools as it cleans. Ice frozen is melting an inch at a time,. Froth rivers in gutters all gravel and grime. All rivers are rushing: the first day of spring. Our bodies now follow the course of the thaw,. A stretch in each hamstring, a yell in each jaw,. Of bright words that break free like rivers unbound. From banks that were deafened from muting each sound. All work ...
