Let The Letters

Laborious Breathing Tells Its Own Tales

2010-08-30T21:48:00.000-04:00

I
i tell the story
in the cold air
warm oxygen from my own blood- i bleed to breathe
i expel it- my being entire!
like frosty expiration
that slips between my lips
O-
the words dance from my grasp

no breath is my own
from tasting of cord umbilicalis
     to wasting away
as the forming of my mouth in womb
is my mind formed by the world
     as my mother still hungered
     though i filled her abyss
does the universe fill me
yet i do not full understand

all we breathe is recycled
changing carbon that stays the same
thinking, opinion, saying-
the only originality
is veracity

II
a brimming cornucopia
i offer you my potent fruit
pick and choose!
i give you my field
meaning is yours to harvest

a pomegranate breast
i offer you my life long labour
feed on me! pick out my seeds!
but carefully so
rape does not elicit love

III
breathing in-
lungs fill with atmosphere
     air is not clay to dapple with
     air is not art in which to delight
     air is reality
and bravery is breathing out-
with eyes wide open

ghost

2009-12-01T21:32:00.001-05:00

The Clown

2009-10-01T21:06:00.002-04:00

Ah, the staring of the clowns
Eyes move up
Travel down
They don't notice that they drown;

Ee, the talking of the clowns
Lips so big they are renown
Kissing ruse, through and through
Crowds of many, two by two;

I, observer of the clowns
Smell their sweet
Hidden deceit
Empty calories drag you down;

Oh, the crying of the clowns
Rushed mascara dripping down
Yearly trends will daily bind
Silly things of silly kind;

You, the clown, the clown, the clown
Hear me shout
Turn around
Deafly stand until you drown.

ethernights

2009-06-19T11:36:00.000-04:00

touch my skin
touch my skin
oh, the moon! touch my skin
lightly drape yourself around me
like the memory i am in

just my neck
just my chin
a light web to take me in
entangle me all unawares
in ether-breeze of know and whim

oh it's heavy
but it's sweet
the salty taste of nectarines
rolling down my deep valley-face
a new road for traveling

How Good It Is To Have

2009-05-03T17:48:00.000-04:00

Up and down and all the time:
This flux and fleeting world of woe,
So much farther - roads of hunger,
Blur colours faster - farther to go.

But, how great is it to have a hand,
To hold and touch and feel the hand,
Upon your back - bones of flesh and hearts of strength -
To allow for you to stand;

How good it is to have a fire,
A warm and zealous, raving fire,
Upon your core - the heart of strength and soul consumed -
To allow for words inspired;

How awesome is this Hand of strength,
Fire commanded, frown and fine
Calming seas and hearts and mine
Gentle now - and there and here and forever and then.

the like of you

2009-04-01T21:14:00.001-04:00

i must say,
i have quite not the like of you
as rocks eat up the how of soon
as we ululate to the sleepless moon
as the sun burns to the tune, to the tune
so i've not quite the like of you

i must say,
i have quitenot the likeof you
as flowering rocks turn july to june
as we remember the shadows of noon
as sunburns plastic and papers spoon
so i've notquite the likeof you

i must say,
i have quitnote the lifoke you
as rocks pregnated swell and swoon
as we are killed by that of goon
as sunward turning burned balloons
so i've notquite the lifoke you

crouching monster, hidden shirt

2009-03-06T19:59:00.001-05:00

an ode to an old love's lost love,
this is to be seriously taken un-seriously and seriously.

a creeping and a licking,
a sticky tongue sticks out
a growling and a crawling,
the monster spins and shouts

on the bosom of the one
who loves it dearly as the sun
which shines and radiates the light
the monster creeping in the night!

a licking of a growling thing
a crawling of a creeping thing
the spinning and the shouting
of the monster on it's outing

it is running, it is hiding
oh the monster, it's abiding
on the bosom, some shirt of white
i hope the monster's found alright.

hit so fast

2009-02-01T21:00:00.005-05:00

hit so fast by anxious thoughts
of forward falls and autumn awnings
he swore in sign, the grey girl yawning
i moaned of pregnant clouds

hit so fast: my speech impaired-
take back last, 'tomorrow's hollow'
my breath borrowed, yest'day's swallow
i swore to mist-ate crowds

hit so fast: my bones dried red
blood-like fingers scripted murders
playing roles of great white herders
more oft' than most allowed

victoria

2009-01-17T13:52:00.001-05:00

(what i felt before. now, it is just a chilly wind.

for all those people i left behind: i saw your pictures.)

Sun shades the dock end, rocking seagull-skies
Reflection of the blooming, Killers call goodbye
Breathe in the salt air, and hum, hum a sigh
This is the where-who, this is my—

Molten dappled sun, stripes and rings on my wall
Half winking windows, cry but naught fall
Breathe in the gold air, and lazily call
This is the where-so, this is my—

Stand on the hill-top, glancing red fallings
Fence white, now not, perch the grey Kings
Breathe in the crisp air, and wing-softly sing
This is the where-why, this is my—

Naked brown branches, stand proudly high
Lungs of the white, as hard as you try,
Cannot hold back, in the icy air cry
Sweet, sweet home; you forever are mine.

new year, three six five

2008-12-31T14:57:00.000-05:00

it is another year,

another three, six, five of do not fears

a reset button pressed by one

resolutions: pointless unless done

what is this counting down?

shouting, singing, counting down!

cold and drunk we're dounting cown (?)

sad and stricken, i feel no different

if everyday were a new years

fervor burns with zeal and fire

people gather with desire

three, six, five, begone, my fears!

that i would sleep and rest my head

more perfect than that of morn

that i yawned long and drowsy

sun in face and out of bed

then how alive would we all be?

one two seven four five six three

another year of no more fears

sober tears and unclogged ears

hallelujah everyday,

in my quiet i rest and pray

today would be for work and play

growing, changing, in this way-

-becoming fully what we are

for this our Father in Heaven art

earnest working for our home

take me! hold me! i am your own.

dark floors

2008-12-03T20:30:00.000-05:00

silk is brushing the floors, from the high ceiling

it is like the paper-thin wings of a fluttering moth

but this gentle whisper of fabric, hushing the floor

only flies as the winter opens and pours in splashes of white

the clear light is half filtered by these curtains,

like a cold stroke of a small cataract in all its detached splendor,

but the rest of the sun reaches the floor like the call of dawn

caressing the morning with a quiet passion; a constant lover

let us open the window that touches the floor,

and let the light over-pour, and shake our house

but, flinging wide our upstair gates, we discover the calm

was not merely a diminished feeling from the out to the in

even if you stepped outside, only a slight kiss would whoosh

causing your tip-toe waves to gently breeze over your face

and you can imagine, inside as you now are, standing barefoot

on the dark floor of the patio-out, dreaming of the land you see, no different

sitting on a tall stool, hundreds above your wood panels,

one foot on the seat as if wanting to stay close to the mainland that is your body

and one foot hanging as if desiring to fly like the feathers that come off

winter birds, but you sit and feel infinite and light, because you are.

dressed in dark boxers from your long ago friend, and a gigantic tee

the outer you is insignificant compared to the outer this,

the white sloping vertical plains of snow and ice,

the sun dappled trees of green and musky scent

you hold on to a steaming cup of whatever is it you like

something with silent zeal that causes lust for citrus,

you are alone, and not waiting for anyone, yet knowing

someone is going to come and be with you, soon or late

while you look on, you are aware that with every inhale

you are living what your eyes and nose are taking in

and you know that your hands are soft but have creases of toil

slender legs, one grounded, one defying

you are not cold, though you are sure this winter is

you jump off your high stool, suspend in the still

and land on the dark floors, and walk to the sun

the cold white sun, all the while never stopping to dream about neverland

because though it wasn't a never was,

growing old is okay, here in this place

slender legs may frail, coarse hands may shake

but the whispers of wings, kisses of cold, and reminders of more

are enough to feel infinite.

the people are crying, thinking, dreaming

2008-12-03T20:27:00.000-05:00

how can backs bent straighten

untouched is his tear, it is open

bent and broken, right over unspilled

the coffee beans are dissolved and

how can cried creeds remain

against the cool of insecurity

of airplanes crashing in mid freeze

winter cold and the orange fray and

how can thoughts of thinking unravel

when mysteries within themselves

are confounding conundrums,

i dream, i think, of you.

"the scientist"

2008-11-25T21:58:00.000-05:00

november 25, 2008: listening to coldplay.

sitting in shades of brilliant colours
reddrops are falling from mars
lying beside you, words circle the ice air
"you don't know how lovely you are"

trying on sweaters five sizes my difference
woven similarities, ours to claim
warming our backs on the back of your heater
"you don't know how lovely you are"

writing the letters across the piano
melodies from the five cent fingers
songs are sung, in the dark of street lanterns
"you don't know how lovely you are"

blue slumber calls you into the sun
equations make sense no more
sweet last kiss, yours are my honest wings
"you don't know how lovely you are"

not in the earthquake

2008-11-24T22:04:00.000-05:00

closely bend your lobes

for the sound of the Whisper

is not even the six feet and one,

for the sound of the Silence

is heavy on your sunken head

open and turn your ears

heavenly hosts will soft speak

whilst the Light-Liar boasts

we will upwards turn heads

and praise quietly "hallelujah"

will you inward turn hearts

and keel over, cry "amen"

delight

2008-10-26T22:54:00.000-04:00

i delight in your face

in your hair, in your dress

i delight in your flavour

grassgreen wine and kiss excess

i delight in your breath

sweet doe meadow and oldmen mess

i wake, still dreaming, of you

world's children

2008-10-22T21:00:00.000-04:00

(stemmed from bfh article "do we still love life?"

the sad sad world where we don't feel the sun,

but rather, see it from window panes reflected off our pc screens)

what a pile of necrophile-s
all of all in thumbnails small
strike a pose, flashbulbs flash
sluts and hoes, mish thee mash
geeks and freaks, scry my mind
for the compliment; no time!
they have photoshopped the think
said 'gorgeous ladies' with a wink
and a slight 'wzzp?' 'not much'
words the unafraid to touch
touch touch tap, space bars wild
i wish i was a virtual child

control my face my bod my age
i the queen of my own cage
contrast button pressed by three
being this creature i am free
myself the spotless perfect clean
conspired by me and virtual means
flirting's easy with eyes averted
could care less, i the ne'er deserted
virtual play; be at it all day
smiles and frowns a click a tap
tap tap enter, space bars wild
i wish i was a virtual child

wonders, wonders circle round

planets' singing laughter found
splendour, splendour sunshine rains
down on my sweet golden face
pitter patter wind-drops fall
hold this hand, my All-in-All!
birds they dance and fish they fly
above the starry-seagull skies
trees stand firm and grasses grow
on the earth's great bosom sow
fields of oat and moon-dust smiles
i wish i was nature's child

small compared with nature's grace
God-willed creatures fill the space
great and short the humble mind
on mud-beds the eye must find
above is green and purple red
thunder filled my shaking head
my frame of marble was but straw
cut down my trunk-thigh with a saw
i defy; i scream my curse
rioting tempests aid my words
running with the nations wild
i wish i was nature's child

the quiet room

2008-10-18T19:03:00.000-04:00

this is the quiet-room

where a pin drop is an uproar

where a whisper is a yell

where a secret is a banner, screaming voices free

this is the quiet-room

where a heartbreak is an earthquake

where a tear-drop is a waterfall

where the neonlights are dimmed, by the great call of the stars

this is the quiet-room

daisies

2008-10-18T19:00:00.000-04:00

the memories planted where the daisies grow
the children remember
the children they know
the place where the daisies grow

the memories fading in the silver of cold
for we all forget
for we all out-grow
too tall for the flowers of white and gold

petals of memories from our lost life
we all want it back
we long to regrow
and find the daisies we sold

our world

2008-09-03T20:10:00.000-04:00

their hands are empty
their stomachs are bare
their throats are parched
their hearts are light and they dance with his words

our heads are full
our stadiums are packed
our tabernacles are filled
out hearts are heavy our hearts they cry our hearts
are gone

the top

2008-09-03T19:48:00.000-04:00

A thousand million colours
And races
And names
And faces
And people from places
All over the world;
filled empty spaces.
---------- A thousand million colours
---------- And white man
---------- And black man
---------- And in-between man
---------- And not-at-all man
---------- United they stand - men.
A thousand million colours
All with one goal
One common purpose
The same ambition
Identical Design;
identical desire.
---------- A thousand million colors
---------- All with one voice
---------- One common language
---------- The same untamed tongue
---------- Communicative
---------- community.

A thousand million colours
Thought they were the best
Thought wicked was right
And that right was a jest
Arrest this jest,
And digest tis 'best'
So what's left?
Not right.
And they were not right indeed.

So the thousand million colours
Built brick by day
And drank by night
Diligently not-sober
Maybe since October
And now it's already almost over
---------- A thousand million colours
---------- Provoked the wrath
---------- And in the cool of the day
---------- They paved a path
---------- Armageddon's on its way
---------- Wrote their own Revelations.
A thousand million colours
Made by One God
felled by one man
Was even - now odd
The great renowned ban
History is quite repetitive.
---------- A thousand million colours
---------- All came crashing down
---------- From their great tower
---------- Into the town
---------- Falling from power
---------- fleeing from Grace.

A thousand million colours
Now a thousand million tonuges
Now scattered; divided by unity; gone!
The old and the young
Filled empty spaces, above the ground
Though cursed by their best
Is blessed by a chance
Second to right
Is now what's left.