July 2011
12 posts
“I thank you for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees,...”
– e.e. cummings
cipher
decode my life and uncover stories ensconced inside the beads on my wrist, the work of hands thousands of miles to the east bartered for a song during a storm see my sister’s smile in the curving ridges of the silver encircling my finger in my eyes, the poor fisherman who dreamed of the possibilities of a different destiny across the sea and hear the strains of a captured memory find a soul...
balloons
What if hearts are just like balloons and what if they too can find too much filling them to the brink of bursting? What if this heart cannot swell any more than this and what if your lips are the pins and needles that will finally set it free?
my imagination
is the wisp of smoke curling
and moving between us
molded by your exhaltation,
a heavy sigh emitted gently
as you fold your hands
and stare out into the distance
looking for something
i’m sure
is just left of frame.