I’m waiting for the storm.
Standing at ocean’s edge, anticipating the winds that will drive the waves high enough to engulf me, it’s not that I want to drown.
I just want to know how it feels to face the current with fierce joy in my heart.
Month: May 2009
funny little thing
It’s always the line I change that I remember the best.
sines
It’s the trembling that makes me wonder.
when her shivers become something
more
a voiceless cry
expanding from her center
roiling outward in waves
that leave her shaken
and moved
(away from herself)
just how far is she.
bloody
A four clove evening, one right after another while I sit at my desk, window open to the rain, and write.
There’s a problem with inspiration; it always comes at a cost, an attachment.
Funny how I see those things as one and the same.
But I want it. I want to peel back the skin and find something bloody and tender. Something to remind me why I still seek to possess something that by its nature is painful to share, and even more painful to lose.
delicate slope downwards (at a faster pace)
I want to hold something fragile.
A glass rose.
A bead of rain.
You.