February 2012
5 posts
5 tags
7 tags
A hush cricket
Meet a girl who reads in Veda, not prose, because she seems wholly foreign to you. Find a girl who speaks an ancient tongue. Be baffled—her words turn yours to doggerel, and her rhymes feel something anapest—one, one, two—let her chamoisee locks fall upon her scrolls—watch them undulate as she speaks at you. Call her Golden Blossom, Moonbreeze—something cryptic like...
6 tags
Doxemesis
A moth is drawn to flame as sword is drawn to fight, art is drawn to please, and Moon is drawn by Night, a bite, of aconite, to ward away the wolf who chases you, down a mottled road—a bed of snow forebodes a sleepless night, a sight of silver moon who looms about, in white, of vestal flight—your mournful eyes that flicker left and right, and droop to a pitch, to no avail.
6 tags
Stop
I know you. I know the subtle trance about your traipse—the heavy perfumed lilac fog—your lonely hand atop the corner of a table set for two—your itching apprehension—waiting to be waited on in your black blouse—lighting dim to fade out scars, caked about your face in mascara. I am well acquainted with your face—young lady—though, I doubt you are...
4 tags
Inspire
It is a dreadful feeling—the night—a tinfoil sheet that glistens on the skin, listens to the pucker of searing crimson shisha coals—salvation—It is dreadfully cold, dreadfully bitter, here. And I run the heat through my fingers as I sit without a touch. Inspire. Inspire, and let it be—the saccharine rush of honeyed smokes, drenched in the thump-thumping patter of Jack...