Monday, 4 March 2013
Sunday, 3 March 2013
with quiet hands
—Ian William L.
Monday, 25 February 2013
yet tempests still see
"Love out loud. There are people all around you who need it, and you do not realise—their night, their sweat. Really, painfully, crash-into-goddamn love them. Louder than life can bruise them. Further than thought can force them. Love out-lasting."
—Ian William L.
the morning of the day inside of me
"How strange I feel, if as a lit match soaked in sweat, the bird of prey run through an ocean."
—Ian William L.
Saturday, 23 February 2013
Sunday, 17 February 2013
Thursday, 7 February 2013
Friday, 25 January 2013
postcards from a space before
Though I signed the card "xoxo" that is not the end.
Though night falls over the city that is not the end.
Though the holiday is over that is not the end.
We are not at end.
We are only beginning.
All my love.
And months pass, in this love. I don't imagine every little evil now. I could read newspapers. I make a mess on the spaces. Some things fill my head—teeth, bones, sparks.
1. I can't see you because you are from a country that is soaring away, you gently with all your soils.
2. do you believe, and still pretend, the mid-conversation, the blood and limbs of it.
3. too bright, but it does not all depend on this coming to life here.
4. I leave for some raking.
5. the structure is long gone.
6. read a book.
7. lucky.
I saw a dog. I saw a lion. I saw a sun. I saw a place.
I have a headache and lunch money.
but the night clubs you.
you would call this madness, called kindness.
a serpent you don't seek.
Tuesday, 11 December 2012
the epilogue of now
i am not the writer, not right now. i am living. trust me. i put the pen down and breathe it all in.
i still see the light in you.
catching.
i lick the stamps of my palms of my hands.
we come together. the fireworks are sweating.
to sleep here.
I still see light in you
catching
across the stamps
the palms of my hands
we come together
in fireworks sweating
to sleep here.
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