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Current Mood: busy

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check my blog comments appr.

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It must be wonderful, being you.
Wonderful being you, getting
alms, gsthering affection.
Wonderful that I wanted
to heal you
Wonderful that I thought
I could.
You must step into light
wherever you go
walk on bricks made
of silver,
tapdance on dew.
It must be so great
to be so glowing;
so wonderful to be you
and glowing.
and glow your way in
and glow your way out
Glow glow glow
It must be so great to be so high.

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This simple flesh.
Theres a warmth a
certain special warmth
in certain special
spots that everyone
can see
but never think to touch.

And neither have
I have I neither
have I thought to hug
in this way but thinking.


That was never part of the game.

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When I look silent
I can see the threads
behind your eyes
Thick and Thin
Light and Dark
they bunch and tangle
all inside of you.
If I had my way,
I'd smooth them out
place my hand on
your forehead wipe
away debris and strain.
I'd take a cloth
wash the stains.
I might sink into you
and sort it all out.
I might be your couch
your pillow, your bed
your blanket I might
be all you ever need on
a night. I just want
your beating groan to
settlesettlesettle
in me.

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bend your words to the light.
you are unable to read
your own memories
unable to retrace the deer in wisconsin
unable to retaste your mother's honey and ham
unable to retake your spot on this earth.
all that is nearly impossible
when you have two eyes
that chip away like poorly made
marbles.

Their green does nothing but perhaps
signify in a clicheist manner
your envy of someone somewhere.

So bend your words to the light.

Watch them stretch, shine, hold, and
stretch again like poured plastic
covering over everything
filling all your wounds
with clear, bulging syrup.

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It was the first time I heard the birds
sing a celebration of self.
While I clamored pots they shouted

GLORIOUS IS THE WING!
GLORIOUS IS THE THROAT!
GLORIOUS IS THE CLAW!

Until I was sure that
dark morning would shy away or at least
open her eyes to say,
yes, yes, you are here.

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She sat waiting for him at the edge of the lake. At the other end she could make out the figures of 2 wild horses grazing in the valley, and playing what seemed to be a game of tag. The sun was bright and hot, and watching the horses in this heat was making her tired, so she spread herself out on the long, soft grass to take a nap. Her eyelids were getting heavy, and swiftly she fell into a light slumber.

She had a dream, not a long or intricate dream, but a short, uncomplicated one. She dreamt that she was one of the horses, galloping accross the valley with her mate, her love. She could feel the strength of her legs, it was tremendous! She could smell her lover's sweat and the scent of jasmine on the breeze, and it invigorated her even more. Mostly the dream was of her and the stallion playing and running, but near the end she noticed that she was no longer a horse, and he no longer a stallion, but that they had turned into humans. It was sad at first, to be human, but when she looked into her lover's eyes she knew that there were some things which a horse could never feel or experience. Like embracing eachother, or touching his skin, feeling his smooth, warm caress on her body. In the last moment of her dream she spoke to him, saying, " I will never forget this day, and for as long as I live I will remember you. Weather we are together, or far apart I will be with you, and I love you."

She woke with a start, it was cool outside now, and the sun was gone. She rolled over, looked into the sky and gazed at the moon for a moment or two. She slowly sat up and looked around. The horses were gone now, but at her side was him. He was asleep, his breathing was steady and strong, and she wanted to wake him with all her heart, but instead layed back down facing him, gently kissed his lips, and fell back asleep in his arms.

Current Mood: artistic

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The porch was made of oak...
The porch was made of Oak, cut from a very large tree, at least 2 feet in diameter. Made by his grandfather in the family’s early days, it had been sturdily fastened with 24-penny Flathead wrought iron spikes. Elliot, occupying the porch, was sitting on an old stool eating an apple enjoying the cool shade. This was the prime spot to get away from the scorching sun due to the facing of this side of the house to the north. A large black walnut tree stood solitary amongst the blades of crab grass and patches of Queen Anne’s Lace that had infested the property long ago. Every so often the tree would release one, or several, of its hardshelled fruits onto the slate roof above. This would result in a loud chatter before shooting the large nut onto the ground with an oddly satisfying “whunk”. Elliot reminisced about the tree and how intimidated by it he used to be. A few years back he had been chasing fireflies with a good friend of his named Thomas. They had been darting from here to there, not unlike their unsuspecting prey, for hours but managed to turn up nothing but glowing bits of abdomen. Feeling dejected, Elliot began to stroll back to the oak porch. Mid-stride, Elliot felt a sharp pain square on the top of his head, then black.
He awoke to the oil lamp in his room burning, brightly casting it’s dancing shadow all about the room, and a severe headache. The town doctor was sitting near him holding a thermometer and smelling salts. The doctor explained what had happened to him, and continued by scolding him for gallivanting around the tree at this time of year. From that time on he avoided the tree whenever possible, making it the first and last altercation they (Elliot vs. Black walnut tree) would ever have.

The heat was becoming unbearable, despite Elliot’s station, so he made up his mind to go swimming at The Dam. Now The Dam really wasn’t a dam, it was a section of conglomerated granite used for redirecting water into irrigation canals which all had fallen into disrepair. Elliot Put on his sandals, grabbed his wide brim hat, and proceeded out the door.. Stepping out onto the front porch he began to contemplate his route of travel. The most direct route was East Road, which was ironic because this road ran north to south, but this route offered no shade. His alternate route was the trail through the woods. The trees, thanks to the relatively unnoticeable season change, would shade the path. He chose the latter, obviously.

A soft breeze was rustling the branches and brought the sounds of mens’ laughter to Elliot’s ear. This was good news for Elliot since he had been worrying about the chances of him drowning because of his choice to swim alone. Stepping through the thick glade of trees that skirted the river, Elliot stopped in his tracks. There were men swimming, but to Elliot’s horror none of them had trunks on. Elliot had never skinny dipped before, and was scared to just stroll out there and toss off his clothes, so he stood still in the shade of the trees. He sat and watched these men for several minutes and began to admire their seemingly free will, he wondered if he should be doing this, but dismissed the thought and continued to watch the nude men frolic about in the warm water. Elliot’s eye-lids began to get heavy. In a few short minutes Elliot had succumb to the late fall humidity and tumbled into slumber. Slowly a dream popped into his eyes. He was looking at himself, or his feet anyway, feeling around on the bottom of a river at a pocket of clay. He watched himself dive down, grab a large hunk and wade back to the shore where he proceeded to rub the clay over his naked body… Loud splashing woke Elliot with a start, interrupting his nap abruptly. He looked around to find the thief who had taken away his dream and found a small brown river otter, chewing bits of fish, on the other bank of the river. Elliot noticed the men were gone, this saddened him because his dream had made him bold enough to attempt contact. He stepped out of the woods once again and walked towards The Dam. Elliot thought how much a shame it was he had missed an opportunity to share time with fellow humans. Stepping into the water, its temperature refreshing, he waded forward and wondered if the men lived nearby. He made up his mind; he was going to visit The Dam everyday in hopes to see them again. He wanted to talk with them ever so badly; he wanted to be free, to not care. As the clear waters of this slowly moving river enveloped his body, his last thought was…I wonder what kind of fish that otter caught.

Current Mood: artistic

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The porch was made of oak...
The porch was made of Oak, cut from a very large tree, at least 2 feet in diameter. Made by his grandfather in the family’s early days, it had been sturdily fastened with 24-penny Flathead wrought iron spikes. Elliot, occupying the porch, was sitting on an old stool eating an apple enjoying the cool shade. This was the prime spot to get away from the scorching sun due to the facing of this side of the house to the north. A large black walnut tree stood solitary amongst the blades of crab grass and patches of Queen Anne’s Lace that had infested the property long ago. Every so often the tree would release one, or several, of its hardshelled fruits onto the slate roof above. This would result in a loud chatter before shooting the large nut onto the ground with an oddly satisfying “whunk”. Elliot reminisced about the tree and how intimidated by it he used to be. A few years back he had been chasing fireflies with a good friend of his named Thomas. They had been darting from here to there, not unlike their unsuspecting prey, for hours but managed to turn up nothing but glowing bits of abdomen. Feeling dejected, Elliot began to stroll back to the oak porch. Mid-stride, Elliot felt a sharp pain square on the top of his head, then black.
He awoke to the oil lamp in his room burning, brightly casting it’s dancing shadow all about the room, and a severe headache. The town doctor was sitting near him holding a thermometer and smelling salts. The doctor explained what had happened to him, and continued by scolding him for gallivanting around the tree at this time of year. From that time on he avoided the tree whenever possible, making it the first and last altercation they (Elliot vs. Black walnut tree) would ever have.

The heat was becoming unbearable, despite Elliot’s station, so he made up his mind to go swimming at The Dam. Now The Dam really wasn’t a dam, it was a section of conglomerated granite used for redirecting water into irrigation canals which all had fallen into disrepair. Elliot Put on his sandals, grabbed his wide brim hat, and proceeded out the door.. Stepping out onto the front porch he began to contemplate his route of travel. The most direct route was East Road, which was ironic because this road ran north to south, but this route offered no shade. His alternate route was the trail through the woods. The trees, thanks to the relatively unnoticeable season change, would shade the path. He chose the latter, obviously.

A soft breeze was rustling the branches and brought the sounds of mens’ laughter to Elliot’s ear. This was good news for Elliot since he had been worrying about the chances of him drowning because of his choice to swim alone. Stepping through the thick glade of trees that skirted the river, Elliot stopped in his tracks. There were men swimming, but to Elliot’s horror none of them had trunks on. Elliot had never skinny dipped before, and was scared to just stroll out there and toss off his clothes, so he stood still in the shade of the trees. He sat and watched these men for several minutes and began to admire their seemingly free will, he wondered if he should be doing this, but dismissed the thought and continued to watch the nude men frolic about in the warm water. Elliot’s eye-lids began to get heavy. In a few short minutes Elliot had succumb to the late fall humidity and tumbled into slumber. Slowly a dream popped into his eyes. He was looking at himself, or his feet anyway, feeling around on the bottom of a river at a pocket of clay. He watched himself dive down, grab a large hunk and wade back to the shore where he proceeded to rub the clay over his naked body… Loud splashing woke Elliot with a start, interrupting his nap abruptly. He looked around to find the thief who had taken away his dream and found a small brown river otter, chewing bits of fish, on the other bank of the river. Elliot noticed the men were gone, this saddened him because his dream had made him bold enough to attempt contact. He stepped out of the woods once again and walked towards The Dam. Elliot thought how much a shame it was he had missed an opportunity to share time with fellow humans. Stepping into the water, its temperature refreshing, he waded forward and wondered if the men lived nearby. He made up his mind; he was going to visit The Dam everyday in hopes to see them again. He wanted to talk with them ever so badly; he wanted to be free, to not care. As the clear waters of this slowly moving river enveloped his body, his last thought was…I wonder what kind of fish that otter caught.

Current Mood: artistic

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This is the first post, and it isnt really any creative writing, but for anyone who joins, I say hi!

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