flightyou mentioned vulnerability but that's myflight by a-secret-key
weakness. i can wash anything off, no lady
macbeth. i'm all copper and silver and
anything that conducts. the current is my currency,
soon as it's vintage, and i'm always fast.
free will is real so you
can't touch me, and
i'm a gambler
(don't remind me tomorrow if i'm grey)
but i'm invincible. someday,
i'll withdraw it all in words,
when it's sluggish and slighty off. like shifting
gears, i can skip a few on my way back
down, and i barely feel it. that's the truth.
19/05/14a sort of forcefield and the edges buzz,19/05/14 by a-secret-key
lap at my eyes like a camera lens. and that's such a dead
simile, i know, but sometimes it just
fits and besides, i'm too lazy to think of another.
did you see that? the blackbird moves across the lawn, a clot.
it picks its way through the blockages, digested flame
and burnt-up blossom, noise on my green. i watch
for a while and then i just
close my eyes.
i never knew what this meant,
still don't. the world is swollen. got a word for that?
Sea poem, Maysuch a sleek thing, the sky,Sea poem, May by a-secret-key
inside your mouth like a mist. your throat--
i concentrated the best i could.
my shoes clattered the rock-- it felt good to climb,
like i'd been somewhere.
i shut my eyes and tried noticing
--thought i'd see a glimpse, an eye-stain or a
linger, but you'd been there long enough for your skin to peel back, so
why was i wanting a handshake?
the sea was one thing, the cave another. a smooth
belly of rock, not much else. it dribbled stones out
onto the beach, a bodied white noise that bothered me. i looked so hard,
kept my face to the light and my eyes
shut against it. that's glory, i suppose,
once you boil the whole thing down and look at the bones of it,
which i did. that's what i'm trying to tell you.
sometimesi used to think this was the easy part:sometimes by a-secret-key
having something, keeping it. turns out
i'm no good with keeping--
just taking, just moving on. it's not all
bad, though, and
in the end i guess i like that so much of this
is down to me. effects
don't always have causes. sometimes
we just get tired-- tea stained
lantern sunlight. do you ever get
home is tiny in the distance. its lights?
i can barely see them--
corner of the eye,
they burst with tiny needles.
a nice thought, i guess, but maybe that's just me-- sometimes i wish
all light was firelight. it's silly, yeah,
but i'm young enough to still get why it's good
to be tangible.
sometimes my head is cotton-stuffed
and somewhere far away from caring. but then
sometimes it's just my head. i'm beginning
to get used to that--
sometimes i even fall asleep.
PoetI. five minutes can make a world breakPoet by jikivigoig
"What's the time?"
He glanced at his watch. "Five thirty."
"No, it's not." She pulled out her own watch from a pocket. "It's five thirty-five."
"What's the difference? It's only five minutes." His eyebrow was raised.
"Five minutes can make all the difference in the world." She turned away.
"Wait. Why did you ask me the time if you have a watch?" Confusion muddled his expression.
"'Cause I like your hat." She started to walk away.
His hand reached up to touch his head. He wasn't wearing a hat.
He wanted to ask more questions but by then, she was gone.
II. sixty seconds can deliver a death
He looked up, surprised. "Oh. Following me now? Didn't know five minutes meant so much to you."
"I should be asking you if you're following me." Her hand ran through her hair.
"Why?" He folded his arms and leaned back in his chair.
She didn't answer. A moment passed and then she said, "That's sixty seconds, you know."
"Sixty seconds?" Co
Aniseed.the shower; your hair looksAniseed. by Book-of-LostThings
boyish and light
and I, and we
the same space, time,
body beneath water;
and I love you, I
love you, I love
anything I can
and will grasp
but I forgot to say,
I was forbidden,
from you --
because mother found out,
and spat crimes and
my mind and
I could leave, I should
run, run from home because
my ankle is better now
and I know about children,
I know about intelligence
but I want to run
away, away and love you
and I swore, to her I
did and mentioned
whatever I fucking
Guilty, oh, I am
for loving you
it hurts but you
couldn't leave so you
gave me your jumper;
because there are
spiders in my
and for my birthday,
you'd buy me opals but
the list will read:
i. to spend the night wrapped in his arms.
Cyclone - Haikus1Cyclone - Haikus by intercostal
dark green waters churn.
churning black thunder blares, bursts
the tempest roaring.
pale pearly pallid flesh fermenting
drowning in a storm.
an ivory gull,
ocean whitecaps like wingtips,
struggles in the gale.
watery cliffs pound.
heavy currents spiraling,
furious skies rain
ropes like acerbic knives strike
a stolid rotting pier.
the offing glows red.
calmed teal waters lap ashore:
Daily Literature Deviations - July 6th, 2011Daily Lit Deviations for July 6th, 2011Daily Literature Deviations - July 6th, 2011 by DailyLitDeviations
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Brushstrokes by rockgem
From dark to light, the most desirable
transition of all. I love the imagery in this.
It's like something framed inside of a shoebox
found in the attic. I want to live in this poem.
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