Word Slingers...

DEAR FRIENDS:

It is my hope that we can use this site to keep one another in plain sight. I miss you all, and miss your words the most- and would love for this to be a collective place to have them in easy reach.

My own silly ramblings are already here. Seth's are on the way. Please add your own- I've sent you invitations. All you have to do is accept and post away if the fancy strikes you. No boundaries- could be jumbled jargon or carefully thought out prose.

Much.

much.

MUCH.

love.

HERE2OWN

Lost in another man's house

crater of a cradle

burn't out case

rot books on vapor shelves

a third world dust to breath your headaches,

make tremble the Hallway

make waver the light.

Fills you like     sinus-

A history to wrap you

leatherbound. to

blend you with the trim

andbanister. to

walk you upstairs on his

fiftiethbirthday. spent

alonewithoutaletter. to

Dance  you  over  boxes

longopened in the  attic shining with  maternity

Taught passions in the cracks of the structure- years before in a frenzy. 

he careened her. and spent a year at her door. Running his hand down the trim.

He'd burn matches in the sink and line them up like bars. To

rub your feet sitting on the toilet

in his favorite bathroom. While

he makes the rice tomato 

soup he made. head tremble-

mumblerubbing life and blood and

oxygen into those hardened feet.

Dead skin loosening beneath his nail. 

peeling a layer, a layer 

another.

Peel the tremble away

peel the skin

pink beneath

make breath the flesh.

make new the shape.

Make raw the touch,

to feel the floor upinside the

arch. too  aware. Make the

wood rise up inside like

snake of vines

That seeks solace in your 

brainstem. Fills you like cancer this

house will

fill you like funnel-make 

tremor your fingers. Make

worry your palms. Shake

stalks uncorrupted- young

arms made aged as it

fills you like splinter.

While you touch him,

leatherbound in a chair.

He, lips peeled like fish tin,

Fingers curled      S

like a tree questions. Medusa palms

     whose snakes have turned snowy 

     in the stale of the chair.

Master of his own ecosystem-

The meticulous melt.

This place, a life left to

The elements. wonder

How much dust could we pour

       from his

          eyes. Saltfalls, thick-

anxiousfaucets. tilt

his head forward, and

make gorges of his 

trunk-thighs-arms

a dunescape, waiting for trees. 

Colleen

Down feathers are always with you now

Crowning your head

and slipping out your sleeves

When you think no one is looking.

You leave behind hollows

filled with the soft white things

And it is true,

I think,

that you are no longer quite one of those things that we call “human”.

Your heart has shifted

from something bloody and aortic

to a golden molten marble

and now when you walk-

you jingle.

Your wings you keep tucked away

folded in on themselves in preparation

For aviation and some great unknown

that is only hinted at on full moons.

A small child sees you.

She cannot help but mouth,

“An angel, an angel”

And you,

you only smile.

And the feathers pool

in footprints behind you.

Puffer Fish

Blowfish have got it figured out. The day made you angry? A bird shat on your car? You lost millions of dollars on a law suit? Slow down. Relax. Take a break. And puff up until you can see the world a little more clearly again.

Plus, they're fish that have beaks. What more could you ask for?

Broken Mosaic Heartfelt Wonders

There comes a great sound.

Catastrophic.

Maybe.

Of glass shattering.

Slowly

with my fingers

Carefully,

and gently,

I dance the shards

across gritty sometimes washed floors.

I dance them

until they sing for me

until they beat for me-

until I am no longer anticipating

that the pieces will prick.

will cut.

will end.

I make a new dance song

out of the beautiful pieces

of my heart

flopping,

and shattered on the kitchen floor.

These romantic notions

make me self-aware,

like a woman painting china cups

or the damsel in distress

or a fifties housewife

who only has the cat to talk to.

I see myself:

this woman with her heart

leaking

and stapled

on her sleeve.

I will chew it.

Masticate it.

And I will spit it out

at the world.

It is my sustenance.

Because this morning

I fell in love with a woman

all over the way she kissed her own lips

I heard the raw coffee grounded croon

of a stranger

I grinned at a grinning dog

And yes.

He did.

He did grin back.

And

this morning

the world graffitied itself

at my doorstep

in dog shit

in curses

in laughter

in vibrations

in the rarest flocks of the bluest jays.

I will never

ask for sinew strings

or artificial tinsel wrapping papers

to snake their way around my beatings.

Around my shattered heart strings.

Because

this morning

Odors crawled in to my nostrils

Beings - and people

attached to my retinas

And finally

After life was done

pummeling me over the head,

I stared down at the pieces:

Broken mosaic heartfelt wonders

And I exhaled.

wept.

And sighed,

"this is life".