To know

If I stood up tall
very tall
high up on my tiptoes
could I know you then?

Would I see soft lines
formed by smiles
and laughter
not by judgments
and contempt?

Are you the same
when they leave
or do you crash
into the silence
needing to be filled
by anything
other than
your
own
heartbeat?

When you are there
in your private space
do you think
you are important
or do you disappoint. . .self?

At days end
when drying your face
as you look
into the mirror
what feelings
and times
are reflected
in hazel eyes?

Do they tell you
the truth
or have you taught them
your lie?

Sometimes
I pretend to trace the lines
with my fingers' tip
feeling
streams of sadness...regret
impairing any honest touch. . .

At those times
I whisper I love you
shouting it into your eardrum
wondering
if you really hear me.

On knees bent
head low
very low
touching earth

would I ever know you?

Words by Fawn
copyright:
April 26, 2006

Moment Um

Desensitized
From my third story window
I watch the riot below
it's the perfect television
minus the mute button

Three stories have become the separation of worlds
within two minutes of opening my blinds. Shattering
heads through windshields, they chant This is your
America. From my third story window I watch the white
of their eyes, the fading blue paint of the police
vehicles, and the red blood that imprints the streets.
Is this my flag? But we watch wars destroy children on
television and we pretend that they aren't real. We
make-believe that these fights aren't occurring in our
streets because we are so civilized. We tell ourselves
that such devastation will never happen to our babies.
Television screens are just like bedroom windows,
though. What do we do when that war is right
outside our single sheet of glass? And who is to say
that it isn't here already?

Repressed
Pictures of a face
no longer seen
hide underneath
my empty wineglass
I never could bury you with dirt
but photo albums get so dusty

I don't want to touch the tacky pages of our memories.
So I push you down my esophagus with red wine. I never
could bury you with dirt. We kept our secrets here,
locked them safe incase we forgot them. We never
realized that we would want to forget. That sometimes
the word we is only the beginning to the word went,
like you did without good byes. No, I don't want to
see your decaying face, but I long for your words to
sew me whole. I long for your words to sew me a rope
so that I can pull us out of the weight of this album.

Mourning
Your eyes
whispered words of water
while wrapped in an afghan
on the front porch

What the tears told each other was our tale. The story
that I will never have the guts to write down because I
would be too tempted to end it with a happily ever
after, though nothing ever is. Your whispered words
of water came calling from your eyes. And I wanted to
paint myself wet like you, but there were no paints and
there were no brushes so my face remained
expressionless.

Comfort
We slept back to back
our bottoms touching
two spines arching
forming a single heart
until you turned to face me

Soul mates are like Siamese twins. They both
strengthen and weaken each other, but neither one is
ever alone. If we were to cut our one heart in two,
who would be the stronger half and who would be the
parasite? It has never been clear if it is me or you.
We are simply two spines arching, trying to form a
single heart; because when we're posed perfectly, we
finally feel whole.

Foundation
Sand slipped through my cracks
with flip flops flappin above me
you used to bring life with chalk
now flowers wrinkle me gray.

I am the cement that you once smashed ants on. That
was the same day you drew pictures to heaven. Those
pictures were prayers that would one day become
answered. By the time they were answered, though, you
had forgotten them. You used to bring life with chalk,
child, until you had grown taller than your foundation.
The dreams you made here were only particles of dust in
comparison to the dreams you create now. But I'm still
here, cracking.

Risk
Wind scrapes at skin
as I cling
leaning into curves
my side
almost parallel to the road
on your black motorcycle

I never thought I would ride again after they found you
under that semi truck. Your spirit was always the wind
and here I am, racing to hear your voice singing in
decibels. On your black motorcycle, you are my wheels
taking me where I am too frightened to go alone.

Release
Swing pulls me higher
my red hair covering my eyes
so I do not see my wings

Is it you or me that is pushing me higher? I do not
see my wings. Does it really matter when the sun is
finally shinning down? You watched me at that cliff
side and told me I could jump. It was my choice. When
I turned away and crumbled into your arms you told me
you could train my wings so that if I ever wished to
leap again, it would be in the faith that I would reach
the other side of the mountain. I never had to touch
the ground.

Remedy
The baby squints
with smiles
as the red beard
tickles her face
little feet kicking
with toes curled

He loves the child dearly, which he can never have.
Holds her like his own. His voice yammering in sounds
that only baby can decipher as the red beard tickles
her face. With toes curled, she bridges the gap of
loss. Makes it all okay.

Care
Wobbling in my hand
he's nothing
but black and white fluff
surrounding a face

How few creatures would trust to be held in my caffeine
jitters? I know I don't trust myself in my own hands,
but you are so different. Wobbling in my hand I try to
hold you steady, because you trust I will do no harm.
The same can't be said for myself.

Serene
Single sparrow
sings sunshine notes
in a lilac tree
accompanied with wind
while only pond listens

Pond applauds with ripples. She is the center. She is
mother. She knows you forget she is there, until you
look into her. When you see her, you see you. You
become mother. You become center while only pond
listens.

Restriction
Ivy covers the wall
like paint
under the vines
my wrists are bound

The twirling vines spread like bacteria. The ivy
covers the wall like paint. It covered every inch,
until the wall is weighed down and crumbles to the
ground. It is only then that I realize that I am the
vine. I am the ivy holding me bound.

Past
Crinkled green velvet
collaring your throat
has no silver latches
cannot be removed

Won't you take that old dress off dear? It doesn't
suit you anymore. You were only thirteen. Thirteen.
Don't wear your memories like a scar, or parade them
around like a prom dress that has no silver latches and
cannot be removed. You've washed you free. Now enjoy it.

Control
Figurines
of angels
white bodies
golden wings
cover your desk
feet glued to wood

You used to paint your face white to look like them.
Put on your golden wing eyelashes and mimed your life
under his heavenly spell. You were once his child, but
Daddy had to die. So you trapped his angels. Their
feet were glued to the wood of your own insecurity, as
reminders to never be birthed again.

Stubborn
You put stiff socks on
callused feet
but walk on your knees
refusing the cane

Your socks need washing, but you haven't the quarters.
You could ask, but you never do. You'd rather stink
and suffer than allow your precious pride to bend. You
put stiff socks on callused feet, and still I envy you.
For I am nothing more than a noodle in a bottomless
frying pan.

Aging
I count your years with breath
instead of counting wrinkles
flames mount over icing
morphing into smoke

From smoke we lift to heaven, and yet our scent lingers
on skin. Once burned, it takes more than baths to wash
away. I count your years with breath because you
flicked the match to my soul and laughter is one airy
presence that will never be wiped away.

Death
Bee falls from flower
while thunder blooms
coloring a silver canvas sky
with God's paintbrush
before going out like a light

I stole God's paintbrush that night and painted your
face on my wall. I just needed to see it one last time
while thunder bloomed. Your lips were moving, but no
sound was produced, so I kissed you. But when my lips
moved away, the paint was smudged, and you had gone out
like a light.

Words by matthew sipress
Copyright:
April 30, 2006

Nutmeg Skies

Undulating like ocean tides
on a clear day.
Clouds shimmering with
inner enlightenment.
Surreal Moonlit nights.
Stars conversing and performing ballets.
Hallucinatory at dusk.
Dreamlike at dawn.
Mysterious and unreal when it storms.
Everlasting in its joys.
Laughter is its noise.

Whisper Zisper

Never seen laughter like this before.
It whispers like ivy climbing a brick wall
and breaks down into sundrops of lemony lava
dripping through invisible mirrors.
It meanders into endless rivers.
I hear it scratching the windows at midnight,
rippling the glass like water.
Caressing airlessly lunar bodies with S curves.
Gliding into dreams.
Blending with the cream in the coffee.
Flying out through the open door.
Never seen laughter like this before.

Words by Joee
copyright:
July 25, 2006





Effect

The edges
of wind
pierced through
Her hands
too small
to cover
flesh

Different hands
circle
as wounds
form scars
She is
what the wind
wished for