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for another christopher.when the day is cold and unnumbered between us i am like anyone else arriving late everything that happens from now on is in eulogy the drifting moments flipping like flip book pages a choppy kind of animated mailed photos i was never supposed to lay eyes on wheat fields outstretched like centerfolds and you and her backlit by the death of the day equally sprawled and scantily clad your faces smiling next to one another but not together you fingers clasped loosely and limbs tangled halfheartedfor another christopher.
i will always be the bedposts of your love the crack and sizzle and discarding
by ~when-it-rains
untitled IIIwe happened frictionless and fleeting with wine glasses full of water and teacups full of wineuntitled III
the yawn of the gateclose echoed for miles and we tripped and stumbled like toddlers toddled like tumblers of chlorine or salt water the tiny clink of a steel ball in a combination lock reopening is just opening with added weight
it happened over years -
we scraped and slid past one another each distinct purposeful breath
smelling like tissue and unused rubber or rubbers or rubbing or dust.
by ~when-it-rains
for devin fickler.i did, in fact, have allfor devin fickler.
day and always did the flip trick skip the clenched fists and fingernail half-moons on palms that pushed the earth from the earth and sat in the space therein hair matted and uncombed
stuck with something sticky skin always nicked or clipped or bitten
a murmur is mustered and stranded wakes up to find it's outnumbered with slippery firm limbs and hazel parenthesis around each iris staring stuttering hazy and manic like a story that's seventy five percent true
there is no more agile distraction
red like unstruck m
by ~when-it-rains
seven seven one five.i think of us like vectors and smashed verses bent but not broken into question mark shapes your inquiries pointed and steel likeseven seven one five.
stakes and tops of fences the sounds and spaces that afternoon are vague or forgotten unwanted or
wasted or
wasting away. . .
sunrose drive will always be
one long stretch of heavy with
thought and promises and i will always be that curbside third-grader
sitting with legs and fingers crossed hoping for rain or a red light or an unquestioned stairclimb.
by ~when-it-rains
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: albuquerque, nm
- Interests: you
- Favourite style of art: umbrella art
- Personal Quote: "what matters most is how well you walk through the fire."
- Email: stephaniereneehall@gmail.com
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blow winds
blow winds
blow my baby back to me.
--
I tell you such fine music awaits in the shadows of the fires of hell. -Charles Bukowski
Now you can buy my book here!--------->>> [link]
--
I tell you such fine music awaits in the shadows of the fires of hell. -Charles Bukowski
Now you can buy my book here!--------->>> [link]
--
"What's more fascist and totalitarian than the dollar sign?" (Marilyn Manson)
--
in the end, only kindness matters.
[link]
--
"What's more fascist and totalitarian than the dollar sign?" (Marilyn Manson)
--
in the end, only kindness matters.
[link]
--
.metal.
shane
--
The world is an eraser for these words
- Jack Kerouac
we must destroy that which contains us
--
in the end, only kindness matters.
[link]
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