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Literature Text
do you remember the rainy evening
when you showed me the architecture
of your heart?
columns of dead languages
and old money, ivy strangling
the crumbling stone:
quelle allure!
I had quite despaired
of ever seeing such a place, but you
forced open the wrought-iron gates
and allowed me to take over—
modernity manifest
in my hesitating touch.
I crept over the courtyards
like some brilliant, beautiful
bed of weeds.
when you showed me the architecture
of your heart?
columns of dead languages
and old money, ivy strangling
the crumbling stone:
quelle allure!
I had quite despaired
of ever seeing such a place, but you
forced open the wrought-iron gates
and allowed me to take over—
modernity manifest
in my hesitating touch.
I crept over the courtyards
like some brilliant, beautiful
bed of weeds.
Literature
Confluence
According to the old religion, a scribe
must bathe in natural running water
before she draws what is dictated to her,
because writing's just like cleaning a mirror,
she says, it's like rearranging stains
left on wholesome rivers. For three nights,
I drew geometric shapes in the margins;
I had been instructed to take notes on
the underside of snow, and how it colonized
the lithosphere, musically and without hurt.
It felt like a call, but it wasn't a calling.
The paper was made in Himalayan foothills
by a woman who had cleansed knots from fibrous bark
and dipped her bleached hands into boiling water.
I mangled the page into a cottage, then
Literature
stonemaze
sometimes, I pretend
our home is tinnitus
I scrape pine needles
into a horizontal bowl.
twisted scenery
settling in like snow
inside my finger
bones, stirring
up sparks. he
may be the last
explosive, a
fire fight that bites
through my palms;
may be the last
crackling
monolith to collect
spacedust on
his loneliness.
I should be left alon
Literature
Drizzling
The grey glaze of a
pre-dawn chorus —
blackbirds,
and an overcast aubade.
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NaPoWriMo day #14.
watch me read this here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQqLmnOOz8I
© 2013 - 2024 toxic-nebulae
Comments19
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You had me at "architecture of your heart." Brilliant.
I can see the perspective of what the others are saying about the use of the word "heart" in poetry, but I think you use it boldly and shamelessly here, and in relation to the context in which you use it it comes off as sincere to me. Who cares if we speak in the cliches of everyday language? Write whatever you want, from your heart!
I can see the perspective of what the others are saying about the use of the word "heart" in poetry, but I think you use it boldly and shamelessly here, and in relation to the context in which you use it it comes off as sincere to me. Who cares if we speak in the cliches of everyday language? Write whatever you want, from your heart!