Burning the Old Year
Letters swallow themselves in seconds.
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.
So much of any year is flammable,
lists of vegetables, partial poems.
Orange swirling flame of days,
so little is a stone.
Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves ( Read more... )
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You mofo - when are we going to see each other again?
I hereby announce that if I don't hear from you before the end of 2009 I WILL contact your parents - this is NOT a veiled threat!!!
Nice to have a text message convo with Sonali though.
Email/call/message me sometime,
Frances
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