A Sad Farewell :'(

Dear Blog Followers,

I am sorry to inform you that I am leaving Blogger. I love the community here, and I have to say I have never met such nice internet people anywhere else on the web! I will definitely miss you guys.

However, I have been struggling with blogger for weeks now, and there are so many technical glitches that frustrate me and are ruining my creative efforts, that I have made the decision to just not use this site any more. I will probably still come here to read others' poetry, but I won't be able to comment.

If anybody really wants to read any new poetry that I might write (and I'm sure there will be a lot of it, as I can't seem to stop writing!) you can follow me on deviantArt or on my Tumblr.

Weird City

Half the world belongs to music,Color possesses the whole.
Twice as deep as the stars are pale
The complexion of the soul.

Numbers count the alleyways,
Thin lines sum up the streets,
And money wrings the hands and throats
Of everyone it meets.

Weird city of the valley world,
You hide your face in the grass.
You half belong to the magic,
But you let your power pass.

Little boy on the mountaintop,
Dangle your feet above the lights.
Until you grow to understand,
This is how you'll spend your nights.

Draw a circle, mark the maps,
Hear the distant drumbeat swell.
Weird city throw your heart back down;
Forsake another spell.

The Many Ways to Leave Us

Your hands are vapor now

Borne on the back of the air like scarves
Trailing from the manes of lions
Circus sounds distant, tarnished, like knives
Half-buried in dank, rotting straw;
Clouds pass over, hurried death birds
Come to reap, to work under the moon.

Your hands are hovering

Unreal sonatas steaming from the
Piano keyboard and burning
Away when they touch the sunbeams
That break and enter this parlor.
Stuffed birds, feathers glistening wet
As if alive in flight
In a rainstorm before our eyes.

Your voice is wandering

Deprived of real life but not of thought.
Overwhelming in its beauty
As are the faces that bring tears
To the once-blind eyes of a healed man.
Awe was never an adequate response
To your now disengaged power in words.

Your heart is beating still

Life support in the lines of ancient,
Sighing ink; its parchment its deathbed,
Awaiting the heaven of those
Oblivious future children
Who never knew you could have died.
The words that fall from your lips one last time
Will be an era's obituary.

Of all the tortuous ways to leave us
Why did you have to torture us with
The one human immortality?

Wistful

Feeling wistful, said the empty spaces.
And light and leaf shadow sat still and they waited.

I know you want me, but I just can't reach you, so I'm
Feeling wistful, said the light on the walkway.

I am invisible, I said with little breath.
And I'm feeling silent and forlorn, lonely and
Wistful for my burden to be borne.

I could succumb to this restful, this peaceful,
Sedate and serene anticipation... but this will
Never happen while I am waiting. Never can it happen that I

Will step into the light that falls so brashly and so softly.
So I'm feeling wistful, waiting, Feeling wistful, waiting.

Feeling wistful, said the empty spaces.
And I and my shadow comprise these empty spaces.

Make Them Last

But all your pedestals are altars, Earth,

and I didn't expect to die in my glory,

before the wings of my mansions could uppercut the sky.



At least you let me have my dignity and

lacking that, at least one last cigarette and



a few last words and the scraping together of wisdom

to make them last longer than newspaper headlines.



The sun was never the bullet in this rifle under my chin

because you were always my downfall, woman.

And everybody says, ooh, ahh!

Delicious Today

Today I feel deathly ill and delicious.
 Pale as the horses and the clouds and their bone China.
  And this morning I left the bare sheets behind in the creamy light
   Exhausted, frail and gorgeous.
    My feet are free and my hands are loose
     So my head is floating away and my hair
      Deftly brushing the stake in the heat
       And my tongue is barely there and tastes too sweet.

And it is all made possible because I wore pearls today.

Question Mark

Sylphs wrapped my hands and feet in bandages

And this is why I come to you on warped limbs,

With warm smile weakening in the snow,

Trembling inwards to a hard line of pain,

Its last refuge lost in the surfeit of water 

That sways, caressing the curve of the lower eyelid.

Somehow they managed to consume my soul.

With my last strength I can only stretch out on the ground.

Pale gold light traces the streams down my cheekbones.

I can only dream of mercies, never ask.

When I raised my head enough to see your feet,

I knew this was the end of my longest road.

The beginning was in the forest with the spirits.

The Green Man gave me a root to chew,

Which tasted reassuring, like dirt, like pond,

And made my dreams endless and life-like.

The specters kissed me on both cheeks and blessed me,

And the Summer bit my shoulders and rubbed my knees.

In between, I read a thousand books, and laughed.

I watched a thousand birds, and reflected blindly.

Breaking, I cared for nothing but my own thoughts,

And even when my fingers all fell apart

I paid the piper without a bat of an eye,

Although his advice was to surrender and die.