[x]

WhisperEyes solemn as pinewood
The touch of your hand
The river's at half-tide
They don't understand
The night is still falling
Don't know you like me
When sun breaks the morning
By sunlight you'll see
We whispered 'mongst spring-blooms
A promise to keep
When we were both yearlings
The valley is steep
My hands through your mane now
As sure as the day
Fly free as the meadows
Where grass finches play
Our eyes are still keen and
Our hearts don't know grey
With these limbs like greenlings
I'll take you away.

I Belong to The HurricaneI belong to the hurricane –
the screaming, untamed maelstrom that cleaves away puppet strings
and sharpens its teeth on misconceptions.

I belong to the harsh cold winter of an aching truth –
one that beats a drum like a heartbeat under the graveyards,
whispering things that our ancestors knew (but we have forgotten).

I belong to the hurricane –
yeah, that's the one – the same storm that broke my back and scratched at my eyes.
It flayed open my chest and showed me my own diamond bones.

I belong to angels with battle-torn wings and voices raw from howling!
I belong to war –
and to the air that sings a dirg

The Day After the FuneralHer Husky arises every few minutes,
in order to expose different parts of its mottled coat
to the flickering fire,
the dog turns in a lazy stop-start orbit
of fur and slurry-jawed yawns.

Beside the same dying flames,
a leather-bound Bible rests
on my Grandmothers lap,

an hour or so ago
the old rocking chair creak
fell silent,

now her head of silver hair
slouches to a side,
bifocals searching for escape
from the tip of her wrinkled nose,
the slow purr of her outward breath
makes a comforting sign
of late-evening life.

I should really venture out
to the dark dewy fields,
out to the open night stars,
to gather mo

About the River Inside My HeadThere's a river in my head and I know you haven't seen it.
You haven't heard it bubble and you haven't felt it touch your bare ankles,
because, like I said, it's inside my head.

I am, almost literally speaking, a fish out of water with you,
with my foggy eyes and gaze that always
avoids yours.

It has never bothered me like it always bothered you
but you smelled of human skin and your palms were sweaty -
I could not hold your hand for the life of mine.

You had anger and something else, pity, sadness, all the like,
in your eyes as I took my sleeping pills
I can't remember how you looked like back then

prosopagnosia (greek: "pros

let's pretend this never happenedbecause honestly,
i don't know you and this was
just a big mistake, she says
very softly.
the morning sun peeks in
through the curtain as she pulls
on yesterday's shirt and i catch
my last glimpse of her thin
shoulder blades, protruding like
wings about to burst out of their
seams. she won't look at me.
the floor creaks with her weight
as she gathers her things. i've
already forgotten her eyes, wide
with wonder, and her lips, her
slender jawbone. i wish she
would turn around. i try to speak,
but words don't come.
her bare feet pad across the
room and she pauses in the doorway,
head turned to the side, as if listening,
perhaps to my heavy heart beating.
the set of her shoulders, hunched like
an eagle about to take flight, makes
me think she's going to break into a
thousand pieces, and i long to catch
them all and fix her. i long to know this girl,
this girl without a name who carries
herself like a hummingbird. i want to ask
her about the tattoo that runs along her
spine, quoting

bits of bonelet it be known:

i loved you most when you were messy,
unkempt--your fingers like a spotted
cow's hide with ink and peppered with
paper cuts; a faded old t-shirt and your
hair on end, holey jeans loose on your
hips. your flaws were your beauty, when
i pressed my cheek to your chest, i took
in the sweet, spicy scent of you and knew
if you smelled like clean and simple soap,
it wouldn't be the same.

you were wild with wanderlust, it hung in
the air around you like a mist of rain and
it soaked you through, ate you up, it
seeped beneath your skin to take root in
your heart.

i was as captivated by you as you were
by the ocean,

Half-Penny ThoughtYou’re a half-penny thought in the back of my mind,
just a whimsy, a waste of a fragment of time.
You’re a telephone number I forgot to write down;
you’re the least of my worries, the last in a line
of a long list of wishes I’ve wished for.

Yes, your voice is a song that I hum now and then,
not for long, just for fun, never starting again
round and round in my head, nowhere near my top ten,
this refrain won’t remain, when it’s over - Amen
just a tune that I once might’ve danced to.

You’re a memory, fading, a faraway sound
hardly there, barely heard, just a wisp on the wind
like a melody play

the truth is thisin my last life,
I was a beggar girl;
weak, cold, and starving.
I thought I was missing something.
I thought I'd found a knight to save me;
that you'd be everything I needed to make me whole.
the truth is,
you were never the one doing the saving.
in my new life,
I am a queen;
strong, brave, and shining.
and no mere knight will do for me now.
now, I wait for my prince, my king, my equal.
the truth is,
I don't need to find my other half;
I'm not broken.

Real QuietThe only mystery is the echo
when a person leaves. No organ ever
detected it, the clang of one vacuum
striking another. Even when I unthought
it: the first silence, repeating like
a ghost. The end came

exactly as its beginning, discreet
and with gentle dignity (a mask of voicelessness). My
restlessness was spent on a hum
of radio, bird rush, voices. All day sounds
which were only silence. This
transmutation of energies, a cycle, a thought
that nothing has an ending: this is what
I heard. Two

weeks now and each
flashing eyed dream is shorter, at least

in my memory.

gods and bacteriayour god left you six miles back
on new bern avenue by the old high school
where feathered fighter pilots sit decommissioned
on roadside crosses like origami
and I'm sorry you came back at all
with piñata car bombs and the souls of afghans
trailing your boots like packing peanuts

you tried to go down with the vessel
blood and muscle and skeleton satchel charges
spilling out of your fleshy palms
but they wrapped your spine in cellophane
after that last bullet tore through your rafters
and you hit the walls and windows like a wet dog on acid
and I dragged you from the gods and bacteria spilling
from your diaphragm
and I'm so

A ClicheI wish I could sing you a love song
about roses and stars and the rain
but I couldn't sing like the blackbird in spring
so I think I will simply refrain.

I wish I could tell you a story
about beauty and trust and my heart
but all I could say's what they say every day
So I don't even know where to start.

I wish I could write you a poem
'bout the birds and the bees and my bed
but all I would write's being said every night
So I wrote you a cliche instead.

anamiaribs are seductive bones:
misery invites strange bedfellows.
fingers trace ridged planes
beneath forgotten breasts.

flesh is passing, less is best -
beauty is only skin deep:
there is no room for fat.

hips and cheeks protrude sharp,
thrust forward in prominence
to be showcased; trophies.

push, grind, hold each other close -
lips, tongues, teeth, and bones.
together, we are alone
in miserable beauty.

baby teeththey say
first loves are baby teeth
purposeful, while they last

i thought i loved you with my
baby tooth heart
the false one that
loses it's root

but what do i do now
baby tooth you foiled
the adult tooth growing in,
sending it sideways and now
you're permantly in my mouth,
my smile, my speech

i caress the lump in my gums
unwilling to have you removed.

A Million TearsA million tears could never heal
This broken heart, this broken heart
In you I know I'll always feel
A ton of love, that was there from the start.
Us, together
We're torn apart, torn apart
I hope you know you'll always be
A part of my heart, a part of my heart.
Because no one ever will compare
To how we were, before we fell apart.

ForeclosureWhere are they now?
Iron tumbleweeds,
emerald city slums,
dirt in the sky.

The child fell off his bike and
skinned his knee. He cried when
I tried to help him up. Ants carried
his blood away. We don't need
that kind of pride.

A woman in Pasadena sold a slice
of toast with F.D.R.'s face on it.
I thought it looked more like you
standing in the rain.

We were asked to recreate the Gospels and
you suggested Michael Bay.
Some things never change.

Columbus found America,
the same way Descartes found existence,
the same way my brother found bourbon
the same way a horse finds religion.

It was always there so
just be careful w

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they can't be takentheir bleach skin caught my eye
albino white against the wild
hair like bright sky electric in the briars

haloed sister gods shot down like fawn

FatherHe
always
lined
us
up
like
we
were
being
executed.

heavy soundA comb to perforate the tender rice paper walls
That shield my core
Of spinning thoughts and holes
A home of domes, thick walls bar this cell
Bubbles etched from stone
A callous
Hiding
Drone

cavernousCarving a hole in his chest
The house he'll hold his hibernation
Thick clouds pillar his vision
And he sleeps

I can harmThe beast in the forest
Touched his teeth to my skin
And I ran from the swing set
My cousin and I were playing on
We were too loud
And he watched us
Until my eyes fell upon him
He was at me
And I knew it was over

I remember finding slugs under stones and wood
I remember plants curling at my young touch
Do I make your skin crawl, too?
I am someone else's mistake
Don't let me be yours
We were tied by our fingers
But I couldn't reach you

When I hid and my words fled
I thought you would find me
Buried in my colorblind fear
My lost reasons
My cliff dive
Into black waters, I hope are sharp
With grey hands
To catch me with a c

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Submitted: March 4, 2012
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Forest Fire

by ~anotherforestfire, Mar 4, 2012, 9:49:23 PM
Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

_{We're proper lovers with miles in-between
Like the devil floating down the river valley
That baptizes in its water
I am not where I would like to be

Like a pagan dance, you tend to inspire
The flirt in your lips, the kiss in your smile
You've got the earth eyes and I've got the sky
This passion: a forest, the anxiety: a fire}

Forest Fireby ~anotherforestfire

Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Free Verse

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=AzizrianDaoXrak Oct 12, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

Just wanted to let you know this fabulous piece has been featured!: [link]

Keep up the beautiful work!

~anotherforestfire Oct 12, 2012

thank you so much!

=AzizrianDaoXrak Oct 12, 2012 Hobbyist Writer

*akarra May 13, 2012 Student Writer

The first stanza's image of a ticked off devil stuck in baptized waters is joking and charming. Love it.

~anotherforestfire May 16, 2012

thank you :]

~trynke May 12, 2012 Student General Artist

What a wonderful work!

~anotherforestfire May 16, 2012

thank you!

=Sammur-amat May 12, 2012 General Artist

I love how packed with emotion this short piece is. Strange how sometimes when we are fucked up most is when our ideas can surpass us. You're totally on my watchlist from now on, lovely.

~anotherforestfire May 16, 2012

I completely agree and thanks so much!

=Sammur-amat May 16, 2012 General Artist

Ah, it is my pleasure entirely!

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