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Rosemary
tastes of something ancient;
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I dont want to talk/it takes engery, wears me out
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blankets --
soft
by pangur ban
10 lines, 1 comment,
on Aug 26 3:32 PM 2008
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A field of dried corn husks
cropped close to the earth
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We were so hungry and reckless once
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about heaven / of dreams / woven / then forgotten / Loves / ties / commitments / each born / lived / and torn / from this corporal / place
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There was a mating pair of cardinals in the pine tree outside the dining room window. For weeks, my husband and I observed their interactio
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my Father – it is surreal buying cards
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It is nearly four in the morning
I cannot sleep
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Wild animals live at my house, efficient feline hunters
drag their prey indoors, paying homage, offering rent
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Miss Josie read my plam last night
at the Spring carnival
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I know that I know nothing,
except that life is full of irony
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I’ve come to the conclusion that conclusions
are an easy draw
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Destiny versus destination: I refuse to believe we’re meant to roam without purpose or direction
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It’s a simple plan: be in the garden by 8am so as to finish weeding before the sun reaches the back fence.
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How many lines of poetry does it take to capture
my passion, love – fear.
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You bundled his words, desires in a song – intended to lessen his obsession, make him less insidious.
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I prostitute my mind everyday
turning technological tricks for pay
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There's so much I don't understand.
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"Necessity is the Mother of invention" but there is nothing maternal about the atomic bomb.
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They built a sanctuary from the thunderstorm
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It is difficult to quantify
this journey, the roads I’ve traveled
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three suits exchanging white-collar pleasantries
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I tear open a pomegranate ignoring the juice
that runs down my arm into my sleeve
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“We are made of memories...
we are what we remember.”
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You were away when I walked along the path
to the river’s edge.
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Clouds roll across mountain tops
like white caps breaking against a rocky shoreline.
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Come, sit, stay a while. Let us discuss matters of enlightenment multiple manifestations and the underdevelopment of the soul:
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I bought Chrysanthemums at the farmer’s market with the intention of planting them before autumn’s frost.
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Thunderstorms fascinate me – especially in the midewest
where they roll in with beautiful fury.
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Unravel me,
if you are bold enough.
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I remember the strange man
that approached us as we exited the grocery store.
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I want to write you a letter.
Not by typewriter, computer or dictation, but by my own hand -
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