Stories tagged poetry

Christ's Fingertips

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they could be barefoot bastard children for somebody else to clothe

a nice girl is like powder

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I remember mad strong words out of a teenager, fresh from the shower without a blouse: First! He will be my age, period! He will be the first to walk me to my room as my fear crashes to earth, final, considered. And I will be the first to milk the w

Aya Sofya

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In between two bricks / he planted a rumor

Elegiac Beer Toast

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"He is risen indeed," I affirmed with a smile. I loved the surprise on his face. I knew my lines.

For Now

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If you had a dream, it was bartered long ago

when you were here

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Summer covered the posterior with diamonds, and I remember we would breathe the bare stars, get up and walk down to the edge of the world to allure another god out of the brine, who had the itch to travel inside. We would rage, play violently, bathi

Rain - a poem

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Often I'll open a door to the rain Twist the key till the lock gives Feel the night cool against my face And let the water wash me clean I'd like to cry, I'd like to But that would mean my body Knowing my mind was in pain Sticking …

This love.

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- Never in pain and distance - Frown on these moments, With bitterness and vain

Dissection (II)

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She wields the blade.

Certainty

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All I know about the futureis that every one alwaysgets to exactly where they are.

my diminutive animal

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I am the daughter of the chorus that roared through me, rude, raw in the morning, singed, singing under linen, setting free the secret prayers, the burns of all royal nature, sweet the dark first hairs of me there, the sweet steam of eternity ever in the

Hey Hey It's Okay

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Over by the swimming pool singing - Hey hey it’s okay - A line from a song he heard - On the stereo when we were driving in the car - On the way to sign the papers to get - His grandfather released from the hospital

After Reading Ryōkan’s “Sometimes I sit quietly”

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in the urging of rivers

the starry night. van Gogh

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Fortunately not all of the stars are represented in the sky, which is already filled enough with them, or their influence. Two separate swirling rivers of light are flowing into the picture as it is. And each of the stars and the crescent moon are pregn

Tinder

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Kindling for the fire Tinder in the breeze.