begins his long march
which is a trespass
across strange earth.
of the foreigners
to whom he is the foreigner
are silken whistles
which he misses.
This is a long march.
This is a strange earth.
I am my own stranger.
AmpersandsThis quiet nightAmpersands by ~ashellessmind
I rescind belief
Their patient meaning
collapses into impatience.
Listen for this virtuosic
language to conclude.
Now single nouns
must be governed
by single adjectives.
A reflection of
my own singleness,
a reflection upon
my own lack of governance.
Their meaning of unity
I reprove. Their meaning
I beg to cease.
Let there be no remnant
for a remainder.
Let there be
no more anymore.
Of endings, I can see
only one. A period
upon this long period.
A plague upon all waiting.
Rain TracksThe insinuation of softRain Tracks by ~ashellessmind
rain into my listless ears
dispirits, disengages, distances,
detracts. 24 years, seized with
yearning, collapse--one into another.
The year I became a Christian,
which is the year you drowned me
with love, recast as an absent stage,
the seat of lingering & malingering.
Even malediction gives way to its own
rhetoric, growing malleable & impalpable.
I hardly exist: spurred on in spurts.
& so a sputtering like rain tracks
is laid upon my brain pathways.
A Saturday spent silent, in sky-watching &
sound waves, as a warper & a wonderer,
as a wearisome husk, as nothing
but a weight, w
Rape WordsURape Words by ~ashellessmind
Can’t write no poems
outta rape words
get inside yo mouth
& won’t let ne good words out
push inside yo mind
& suck yo best thoughts dry
press against yo chest
& suffocate w/e
wants 2 b expressd
swim around inside ya
curse ya shove ya blind ya
cry cry cry cry
Dreaming of Cameron MorseDreaming of Cameron MorseDreaming of Cameron Morse by ~ashellessmind
after Du Fu
This, then, is how I will position myself
at last, as you are leaving me,
the wild one, & myself the Confucian.
I, here remain: confined by my
& you: as wandering
as the wildebeest you narrate, that river merchant
of your own envisioning.
How ironic, then, that we who mixed
Xanax with alcohol,
whose roommates fled, going insane
would do nothing more at your Bachelor’s
party than remember the other
and hold a discussion with our fiances present!
The truth is we have both mellowed with age,
& you, being older, perhaps
have mellowed even more th
sweep psweep by ~ifasinnerhasaname
a sudden thrust
towards your smile
just faintly out of reach
grasping airways to
memory and past each
running gag we
left six feet under
bout that time on the beach
where you said,
life is so simple,
try not to rhyme so
i the leper
fall into the seas
of real life and him and me
b e p
he asks and i say,
maybe another day.
rightthe key crunches through the backdoor lock faintly and I feel a pressure that rushes to push my heart in on all sides like a vacuum. the stress presses and forces and strains. when the door finally clicks shut I stretch the comforter further along the side of my face. the shine on my cheeks is barely noticeable after the familiar scratch of a blanket smooths them away. Im lying on the floor with my ear to the carpet and Im crying, and Ive been anticipating for an hour and fifty-three minutes. it could be anything.right by ~goo-goo-ga-joob
a click and a creak and sharp, sharp pain at the very crown of my head. the bottom corner of my bedroom door di
Daily Lit Deviations for July 6, 2009Daily Lit Deviations for July 6, 2009Daily Lit Deviations for July 6, 2009 by =DailyLitDeviations
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"Warning" by ~TheObviousChild
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"Healing time" by =rockgem
Suggested by ~ashellessmind
Featured by `YouInventedMe
"Hagiography" by ~renaissance1912
Featured by ~SirBret
"Adeline-Visual" by :d
HagiographyI said: tomorrow lets meetHagiography by ~renaissance1912
at this corner, I can buy
you a drink and well talk.
About what? you said, looking
beyond me, your eyes on the lights
of the Port Authority building and the signs
that kept trying to tell us
Eighth Avenue. All the time I kept thinking
those shrimp were so good, that we ate
at that bar in the theatre district. This still is
the theatre district, again but that was
the first flush of twenty-one, swaying
arms linked through the streets and punch-drunk
on a lack
of limits, though I poured my drink
into the ficus pot. Ive never liked alcohol
but the shri