.a new name for this road

Landscape

When we were children, you didn’t care for words, you only filled pages with vertical lines. Beyond the page, the bite marks at the tip of your pencil, bare knees, a scrawny cat sleeping at your feet. We lived in the city and I thought you drew lampposts, telephone lines, the long, rusty rods scattered in construction sites. Your voice insisting, no, no, these are trees.

Conchitina Cruz

.look at this tangle of thorns

my veins
that keep shifting beneath the surface of my skin,
writing love letters to you in cursive.

look:
they say with my heavy bones my body will never
get off the ground, but that doesn't mean i close
my eyes when the sky is so beautiful it hurts.

my hands might someday turn into wings.

bits of "trilobite" by estallidos

.aren't we just terrified?

Yesterday upon the stair
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away
When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn’t see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door
Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away

William Hughes Mearns

.you, lucky you

la imagerie

.suddenly you felt the need to break free

in my mouth the tea
is never hot enough;
I miss you always;
(and I) hold you in my
heart with a very real
humor you'd be proud of.

what are you doing now
where did you eat your
lunch?

is difficult to think
of you without me in
the sentence;

bits of "Morning" by Frank O'Hara

.beautiful things can come from the dark

♔

.we were made to never fall away

Love much. Earth has enough of bitter in it.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox