Tag Archives: sky

Aside

how do we always hear what we want to hear and how do we convince ourselves that somebody’s listening? somewhere out there, listening to us? don’t be ridiculous, honey, ain’t nothin’ we can tell those clever folks down yonder. nothin’ at … Continue reading

oysters

we could eat oysters
under the moonlit sky
and nothing would change
except, perhaps, the taste in your mouth.

how many calls have you missed
¿y cuandos calles anduve contigo
como si estuve solo
?

your touch would have been enough
if it weren’t for the look in your eyes.
and i guess that’s just it.
that’s just fine.
one day i will cry the mud out of mine.

yes, i remember

yes, i remember
the blue sky with no horizon,
the trampled road we trod though
one april morning following another.
and the time was not stopping
but starting anew:
in me and in you,
even in those black eyes and hands
which longed for the other on these marshes.
we feared no ending: it would not come; not to us
who knew of life lived simply,
of lukewarm soup and truth before bedtime.
yes, i remember
and it will be alright.

soar!

soar!
above the mountains, touching rooftops
where dreams are made through Kais and Gerdas of tonight,
their flowers – moondust
eclipsing the broken shells of sky.

i tell you, soar,
as if there was no tomorrow – who knows
if there will be a today.
i see horizon cracking at the edges, burdened with heavy clouds
of rain. cumulative correlation of cumulous clouds.
the very thought is raining on me.

so build your wings, Icarus:
i keep one eye in those clouds to watch over your flight.

as though you might not make it.

the blind spot

interminable
as an endless circle
of coiled nucleic acid strand
without a protein coat
to hide in

so here you are:
i’m naked
like the moon,
causing the tides of your moods,
falling behind
the thick mesh of clouds
and reappearing
as a sliver
after total destruction
of another menstrual lifecycle

and i’ve noticed
you don’t see the moon unless you’re looking for it
or sleeping with your face under the open sky

its coming and going
passes the world silently by

that’s why my whole life
has been about finding
the blind spot
in the lover’s eyes.

flying

place me in the mirror
of your heart
where love refracts;
oil in puddles,
birthing a rainbow
on the dirty ground.

you tell me oil is denser than water
and talk me of the colour of the sky;
but i am a bird, i just dream of flying.

después
your head is on my breast:
i’m ruffling your hair like you ruffle my feathers.

physics forget to matter.
gravity is lost.

72. on a carousel of heights

one more year nearly over but this time i won’t attribute it to anyone. no, not to you or X or Y. it wasn’t mine either for it took me on a ride, spinning me around on a carousel of heights. and i can’t see the lows, looking back into all that time through my rose-tinted glasses. i can’t.
lets leave them lurking in the shadows, where past has teeth and broken dreams, like glitter, pave the floor.
i’ll visit them again. i have before.

i’m supersticious.
and i believe.
i believe that one must welcome a year in with the colours of its chinese animal; that one must drink a glass of champagne as the clock stikes midnight; that the way one spends new year’s eve will be the way one spends the year.
my supersticions supersede any norm of rationality, but darling, you said so yourself, i’m the luckiest person you know.

lets believe.
believe that there’s some truth to supersticion after all and drink champagne tonight.
and it’ll be the night when i will set the sky alight, our paper lantern flying up above. i’ve found love.