since feeling is first ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

An empty chair at an empty table in a half-empty diner on the edge of town ( Read more... )

The petals fall in the fountain,
the orange-coloured rose-leaves,
Their ochre clings to the stone.

ts'aichi'h | ezrapound

Puppet dangling from a string.
I feel
I feel
like a broken thing.

Sometimes there were boys she could not get out of her head, and sometimes there were boys she could not get out of her bed. And sometimes, on the very rare occasions when the light of love would shine upon him just right, the two would become one and something would have to give ( Read more... )

On summer nights when I was very small, I would wait quietly for evening to fall, and in the grey of twilight I would pack my bags. Toothbrush, toothpaste, storybook, tiny pair of shoes, and my favourite dress all bundled together, waiting for Peter Pan to take me away to his Neverland. I would close my eyes in the warm night and fly away on ( Read more... )

Someone had put it in a glass jar, and had torn its wing. They had ripped it almost in half, but still it flapped the beautiful wing, damaged almost beyond repair, as though it had not happened. As though no such thing as evil or thoughtlessness existed in the world. As if one day, by magic or just plain luck, the wing would work again and it ( Read more... )

Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall ( Read more... )

Dearest ( Read more... )