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| Literature / Poetry / General Poetry / Visual & Found Poetry | ©2010-2012 ~angel-in-pieces |
Dawn, February 29th I drive all night,Dawn, February 29th by ~angel-in-pieces
following the skyline
through the trees
until I reach your side, deer.
It's something about the way
you're lying, mid-leap,
as if sleep has taken you unawares
that stops me there.
And it's your eyes that hold me,
your unseeing gaze
that somehow holds me whole
in the haze of the moonlight,
on the rim of the world.
Like that moon,
you have run yourself blind,
unfurled
as if in a dream.
And it seems
your legs are broken, yet
in my headlights
you rise like heat
to the place where night
and day finally meet.
Case History We find youCase History by ~angel-in-pieces
where you had fallen:
face to the blue,
the wall between this world
and the next. You'd
slipped, perhaps, lost
your footing and now you flew –
webbed fingers outstretched,
your kelpie hair strewn
behind you. Your lips
are chapped and blue
as if bitten by frost or fishes,
the words choked back
in your throat as you open out
like an oracle, begin to bloat.
Your skin is starting to scale.
But you don't notice – in fact, you float
so serene, I wonder
if you've always been blind
and weightless, like an astronaut
tethered to the stars.
We find you
where you broke apart –
a balloon
loosed
from a ch
By Heart Now that I have your face by heartBy Heart by ~angel-in-pieces
I look to piece the other parts
of you together – less your lips, your eyes,
like a knife-thrust, bright as dawn skies,
than the shadows gathering in your wake,
the bruises left by every heartache.
I long to drown in the depths of you,
to feel the waves breaking over me, the moon
inhaled, exhaled, cancelling out the sun.
I want to watch the lettercut light come undone
in awe of you, to see the stars run blind and tear
the very fabric of the sky. To hear
my heartbeat breaking on the same
shore as yours, time after time -
calling your name,
calling you mine.
Girl, Fifteen, To A Lover She'll Never Meet Thursday nights are silver screened.Girl, Fifteen, To A Lover She'll Never Meet by ~angel-in-pieces
At nine, it's time once again to air
the prelude to a dream.
I wait, eyes square, for the immaculate
contours of your face to appear:
the features of a lover I'll never meet.
It seems strange to say
(a kind of admission of defeat),
but to be honest I'm OK
with the pause, rewind, replay
that makes up our relationship.
You have to admit,
knowing I'd never flip
channels or walk out when
you're in a scene
is a devotion, of sorts.
I expect nothing in return.
I know you know nothing of me.
But I can't help but love you;
your close-ups, your scripted smile,
the way you lean towards the screen
Wintering It's a canvas of mouthings,Wintering by ~angel-in-pieces
of open throats, that wave of grey.
Storm clouds pass like sails torn,
loosing their limbs to the wind
with each stroke of the brush.
There's a symphony in the rush
of them, howling their wolfcry, O -
breathings holes into the fabric,
Lethe leaving their lungs. And low,
tugging at the hymns that line the sky,
the moon, sister of a stone,
rises, rises with her hood of bone.
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Only stupid people think they are wise.
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And thank you muchly for the feature, too!
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I am as tall as my shadow, tall as stories... ♥
And it is also nice to hear that you have a small paper cranes collection now.
Haha, they cheer me up, even though they're starting to get covered in dust now...
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I am as tall as my shadow, tall as stories... ♥
And it is all right, I have a lot of things covered in dust in my room.
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‘‘What we think and what we believe is, in the end, of little consequence. The only thing of consequence is what we do.’’
~John Ruskin
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I am as tall as my shadow, tall as stories... ♥
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Gerard, Gerard, there's something in the tent Gerard...
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I am as tall as my shadow, tall as stories... ♥
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Gerard, Gerard, there's something in the tent Gerard...