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06/06/2010
Goddammit. You ran away with my inspiration.
Jun 6, 2010 10:51:04 AM
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The Girl in the Forest
I wrote this for Mom for Christmas. It's a little late making it's way here. You are the fairy In the festival In the forest In the future Gathered ‘round By every lacquered lion Jumping free Of the merry-go-round Of every birthday You slipped away from So quietly in the night Through summerbalmed windows In a gown made of Dragonflies’ wings And mothlight It was left in A box Buried deep in The murmeringsoft grass Under the greatest tree Slicing the sky gorgeous With the lace Of its dark and gentle heroism Left there for her to keep And while...
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For Dean Moriarty, Who Has Another Name
I will never be on the road, untethered, I am no spastic cluster of stars bouncing from one life to another, touching only so it burns, cigarette holes I'll leave but never see and ooze with poetry thick and on the turning edge of sweet, it gushes from sloppy mouths, recycled words, recycled and recycled, left with all the grime of the night I'll mention but only barely in a hangover stoop to pick up with yellowed nails and it will be caught under them, I will carry the grime, and I'll say the next day I am fresh, moving...
AnnieVirginia
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