fifty four
you ask me to rise.
i eye off the bar.
testing it's weight
against mine.
breath drawn
like a bow
propelling me
into flight.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
99 beuatiful moments: a study
fifty three
moments snatched like stolen lollies and incompleted tax returns.
almost falling before we catch ourselves; this is how we walk.
every stroke includes submergence and coming up for air.
moments snatched like stolen lollies and incompleted tax returns.
almost falling before we catch ourselves; this is how we walk.
every stroke includes submergence and coming up for air.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
final requests
you ask of me one more thing: will i hold this grief for you?
a small thing, i measure it's weight. watching it as it expands.
it engulfs me; this small thing measured between finger and thumb;
it's elasticity, hypnotic. sands stain my eyes.
i ask myself of myself one more thing: how quickly will it pass.
as long as it takes an angel to dance on a ball of string
that reaches to the moon and back again. as long
as it takes the stars to remember how to twinkle.
as long as i hold onto it. thats how long
it lasts.
a small thing, i measure it's weight. watching it as it expands.
it engulfs me; this small thing measured between finger and thumb;
it's elasticity, hypnotic. sands stain my eyes.
i ask myself of myself one more thing: how quickly will it pass.
as long as it takes an angel to dance on a ball of string
that reaches to the moon and back again. as long
as it takes the stars to remember how to twinkle.
as long as i hold onto it. thats how long
it lasts.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
99 beautiful moments: a study
fifty two
when we tire of holding it
together we learn
to hold our own
when we tire of holding it
together we learn
to hold our own
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Friday, August 19, 2011
in the interim
until it breaks me
i will pen these posts
in the isolation of crowded rooms
i will dance upon the piano
to the music
of broken keys
i will sweep it all up
and drop it again
like a comic routine on loop
i will photograph the stars
stumbling
before they fall
until it breaks me
i will masticate my dreams
whilst i am asleep
until the fine
filimants of ideas
turn into hope
until every sigh
sounds like a siren
until every horizon is a sure
and it will not break me
for i iwill know it
as my own
i will pen these posts
in the isolation of crowded rooms
i will dance upon the piano
to the music
of broken keys
i will sweep it all up
and drop it again
like a comic routine on loop
i will photograph the stars
stumbling
before they fall
until it breaks me
i will masticate my dreams
whilst i am asleep
until the fine
filimants of ideas
turn into hope
until every sigh
sounds like a siren
until every horizon is a sure
and it will not break me
for i iwill know it
as my own
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