last night, dear.

last night you haunted me.
although still with me-
quite alive-
i felled you like a torrent,
like a raindrop, like a flood.
the room was quite empty-
black and lonely,
as though every watching angel
had hastily deserted me
in my ill fate.
drops of water swelled
and frosted the edge of my lashes
i shivered.
alarming thoughts
pounding in my skull
like pegs into dry wood.
i cannot feel, i think,
and i come up empty--
as though a handsome stranger
presented me a blank sheet of paper.
drops of sweat beaded
on my neck
like startled bees,
stinging me with salt.
i raised my head and murmured:
god! i don't love him.
there! i said it.
my eyes scored the room warily.
i don't, i don't, i don't.
it crept accross my weary brain
like a drug, like a moss.
and i laid my head on my pillow-
quite unarmed-
my eyes fluttering shut in sleep.

wishing well

you feel as though you've done with
trying, with this unnatural and
unavoidable circumstance.
would you rather wake up to
dark skies every morning
to, the horrid rank of complacency?
it cannot be solved
but i'll die trying rather
than wait for that blow to the back of the head.
we've been drowning all this time.
don't tell me who i am,
there is no quick escape to
an earth of waltzing stars
and broken wishing wells.
where everyone brushes their teeth and
kisses goodnight,
and the distant hum of humanity
is like the subtle grinding of the teeth of the dead.

ebb and the flow

miss Laurel and i sat at afternoon tea
in the thick of the moment, she looked up at me.
she sipped at her coffee and looked at my eyes,
and she blurted out suddenly, to my surprise:
i'm just here. i'm halfway done.
life is a ball of yarn that i've half spun.
and there's nothing to do but sit here with you
and wonder what i could have done.
she said, "i've this apartment, this van and this cat,
& i'm not getting pregnant, i'm just getting fat.
i'm just waiting for something that won't come along
and i'm wondering where i went horribly wrong."
i said, "life's like a shelf you can't reach at the store,
& you haven't grown yet since you've been there before.
every now and then people complain you're too slow,
but you've got to accept the ebb and the flow."
she said, "mother reproves me for the length of my dress
& my sister's got 8 kids, but i'm not impressed.
but now i can't see past the bridge of my nose,
and these glasses make me feel so dreadfully old.
it's just that. i'm halfway through.
life's a late ball, but i'm seasick by nine.
i hear from my mum that Prince Charming will come,
but he sure is taking his time."
i said, "love's like a tidal wave, clearing it's path
and it surges, and paints hearts to blue that were black.
every now and then you must demolish to grow,
and you've got to accept the ebb and the flow."
she said, "i think i'll give up this dastardly plan,
and i'll get out of Kansas as fast as i can.
go to bright Barcelona, i'll waitress till i am
quite fluent, and then i'm resorting to crime.
i'll steal hearts like they're emeralds and smash them in two.
i'll be someone else by the time i've become through.
that's just it! i'm halfway there.
if love is a lift, then i'm taking the stairs.
& you tell me it's simple, like curling your hair,
but if that's so love, then i'm color impaired."
i said, "life's like a peach tree with branches that sprawl,
and you pick a few peaches, but you can't have them all.
cause your arms will be full, and you'll drop at least half;
and see, life isn't meant to be lived out like that.
you just follow your heartbeat wherever it goes,
and you've got to accept the ebb and the flow."

dear sister, i love you.

where have you gone, sister?
i thought that i knew you.
what happened then, sister?
my eyes look right through you.
i think that it's time we re-introduced.
we'd find we worked so much better together
than ever we did work apart.
but i can't help but think it'd go much more smoothly
if you weren't so insistent on breaking my heart.
for once it was captured, and i was quite restful,
content without running or hide-and-go-seek;
but you couldn't stand it-it killed you to see it-
what happened, dear sister? why be so contrite?
like David of Israel, content not with his sheep,
you reached out and snatched from me my only lamb.
but sister, he'll hurt you- hurt you like he hurt me-
likewise, he'll be hastily snatched from your hand.
and then you'll cry, sister.
you'll cry and you'll know.
the tears will then water the ground on your soul.
it may be unpleasant, but dear, it's quite worth it:
the water soaks in, and you can't help but grow.
oh, i know you're clever- alarmingly coy-
but you'd step on your sister to reach for a boy?
i guess that just makes us two souls of a kind-
we both have your best interest first in our minds.
dear sister, what happened to make you so cold?
i will not allow you to rip you in two.
you wish to be far-sighted, clever, and wise,
but you can't be with your hands to cover your eyes.
and sister, you'll get it some day. you will see
that when everone left you, still you had me.
even when you break me, i won't stop to care;
and the day when you realize- i promise, i'll be there.

the other side of winter.

winter can also be quite cruel.
leaving the ground bare, humble, cold.
drafts nip at my skin and quickly retreat,
like troublesome children,
only to come back again and torment me in my loneliness.
it is jealousy.
life is devoid of naught,
yet i am filled with abject melancholy.
i am fraught with forboding and fear to look past today,
for tomorrow things will remain in such a state.
winter! when will you rest?
when have you even shown mercy? shown pity?

winter.

oh, that winter can be so lovely.
though the trees have been stripped of their leaves
and are looking quite humorously naked
in the midst of all those handsome evergreens;
and my beautiful tulips seem gone until spring,
the air is fresh.
snow has long forsaken this small corner.
though the ground is frozen hard,
the sky refuses its torrents of powder.
i'll have tea and buttered toast, and sit pleasantly
by the big window, wrapped snugly in a blanket,
having hypothetical conversations with Anne Boleyn
and Catherine Howard.
there are those who would storm in quite angrily
and rebuke my sanctuary.
and smile i gently, never understanding
the morbid pleasures of the wicked and the weak.
and steam will float contentedly from my tea
and tickle my nose quite precociously,
like so many prayers uttered in times of peace.
and i may look up, and see soft peals of white
flurrying down in the greatest of hurries
to clean the ground gently- melting upon touching
the wicked earth. next will come spring, it's sister
with rains and poppies, to turn about our melancholy-
but for now, winter.

quotes du jour, comme l'amour.

quotes of the day.

"no one can love where people want them to because it is convenient. love is not like that. it is there- one does not say it is suitable- therefore, we love."
-katharine of valois [queen of england, and mother of the tudor dynasty]

"...she loved him because she needed to love someone. there were two passions in her life: one was music, and the other loving. she had loved and lost, and loved again. and on all these people she had lavished her great capacity for loving, and that was great. she must love; life was devoid of interest for her without love. all she asked of life was that it let her love, and she was afraid of life, for it seemed to her that love was ill-fated."
-jean plaidy, of Catherine Howard [favorite cousin of Anne Boleyn and 5th wife of Henry VIII of England]

lovely stranger

pray do not ask me what i want, dear sire,
for i could not tell you if i desired.
it seems quite vague, like something distant,
covered up by cloudy greyness.
yet, still i reach out to touch it-
though i cannot feign to see it-
i fear i might not beleive it,
if my heart it finds.
pray do not ask me what i need, dear sire,
for i cannot find it for myself.
it seems so lonely, weak and flimsy,
evaporating when i catch it,
up like smoke out of my grasp.
all these seeds of doubt, late planted
bloom, while hope i took for granted
fades. i've found a way to stand it.
i am far from well!
pray do not look at me so sweet, dear sire,
i don't know what i feel, it's true-
i'm certainly not repelled by you.
i cannot stand to feel like this.
i swell, i crush. i'd like this bliss,
we'll smile, and i'll accept this danger.
i'll call you my lovely stranger.

l'amore della donna

[the love of the lady]

pen strokes and ink blots in terrible patterns
which brighten my day at the sight,
to pitter and patter and placidly ponder
and scratch it all down on the back of a napkin:
am i, then, a writer? am i?

when anger would pour out on pieces of paper
or joyous bright rapture on small notebook scraps
when sadness and anxiousness swiftly piled up
on shiny backs of advertisements
have the power to turn me to white or to black:
am i then, a writer? am i?

листья монетного двора

like teethmarks on my fragile heart,
the breathing stops. the beating starts;
i start to feel quite tragic,
clogged with melancholy magic.
and really, we've been dying all this time?

from the moment we were born,
our sprits and our bodies torn?
tripping over missing paces,
shattered plans and open spaces.
truly, we've been crumbling all this time?

i'm loathe to think that this is my demise.
you say i've been burning all this time?

bother not to catch your breath.
i'll tell you when it's worth at all:
but no one's pride can break the fall.

леди с красными очками/ Lady Lorgnettes

her eyes would shine like fiery pebbles
underneath that grey-green veil
waiting for the fall.
to pick at me, torn
like so many angry, spiteful wolves
growling at my veritable innocence.

her teeth would flash like vengeful queens,
sowing discord among brothers.
what more to rouse her wrath?

her thoughts would tick like perennial clocks,
clicking her tongue at my folly.
unable to conceal her rampant distaste.
better for him, she says in vain.

better for him who i love.
and who has fallen for this creature,
who should bend and break
from the breath of my mouth.

her love would swell like oceans' tides
uncontainable, immortal, fatal.
longing for that which she never can have:
how she longs for that still!

Lady would have me swept neatly aside
with him locked safely away
to look at whenever she pleased!
Lady-with-the-glasses,
bright eyes open wide,
the glittering key safe in her pocket.

thunder

it's moments like these
i really regret
what i never showed you,
what i left unsaid.
while storm clouds are brewing
their horrible gin,
the thundering shakes me.
i finally give in.

joie du matin

joei du matin

trottoirs endormis
après la pluie
douce comme les fraises
sur un matin d'été.
où est mon amour?
il dort dans l'herbe,
plus douce que le soliel.
sourire doux,
mon coeur danse dans
le joei du matin.

quotes du jour que j'aime

Quotes that I Like

"Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like." -Lemony Snicket

Do not be afraid, little flock, for Your Father has been pleased to give you the Kingdom. -Luke 12:32

"This must be a Thursday,"
Arthur Dent thought,
sinking low in his chair.
"I never could get
the hang of Thursdays."
-Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

It is known that there are an infinite number of worlds,
simply because there is an infinite amount of space for them.
However, not every one of them is inhabited.
Therefore, there must be a finite number of inhabited worlds.
Any finite number divided by infinity is as near to nothing
as makes no odds, so the average population of all the planets
in the Universe can be said to be zero.
From this it follows that the population of the whole Universe
is also zero, and that any people you may meet from time to time
are merely the products of a deranged imagination.
-Douglas Adams

i felt very still and very empty,
the way the eye of a tornado must feel
moving dully along
in the midst of the surrounding hullaballoo.
-Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

silly things do cease to be silly
when done by sensible people
in an impudent way.
-Jane Austen

comme les anges

such as many people say
when blundering clouds loom overhead
blindly, lightening crashes down
and meek retreat fills every bone.
hope seems something far away.
i brought the storm.

as such brilliant blue skies darkened,
i was cursed to bear my weakness.
very quietly retreated
to the silence i'd created
pulled the clouds quite close about me:
solemn night would draw me in.
i named the storm.

such as tragic exultation
beats the broken down severely;
darkness rather close about-
i am the storm.

in such tranquil skies i see
denounced a fair and clearer shoreline:
running quick, i'll weigh the distance
should the darkness so compress me.
brilliant eyes, as blue as angels
pull the woolen clouds away,
i saw the storm.

such as beaten people ponder
of the ways which they have trodden
all about through moderation,
quickly fanning any flame
to make the darkness melt away--
the icy chill becoming tame--
to shiver gladly at love's name:
which calmed the storm.

любители фарфора

i'll take the broken one said he
who could talk of shame forever,
of that blatent, waxy substance
always floating through small veins.

this could take some time, said he
porcelain hearts are slow with mending
cracks who've steady been as friends,
though they bring desparity.

time is running out, said he
craving love has vicious payoffs.
by the time i've done with all,
i'll be there to break her fall.

-jane baudelaire

la mia scomparsa

la mia scomparsa


this is my demise:
that rhapsody of passion
starting at your touch
that mellifluous ardor would be crushed.
this is my demise:
that such sophistry would allow
my head to spin like fiery snowflakes
drifting obediently onto wet earth.
i wonder at you.
i wonder: if you enjoy this.
this is my demise:
that zephyr attatchment, my crutch,
my heart your bauble--to do what you wish.
that icy cloud
becomes me.
this is my demise:
that whirlwind paroxysm my fate to inscribe:
a thousand breathless kismets,
all broken, all mine.

коробки

if light could be bottled, they'd store it in sheds.
if knowledge were caught, would inhabit their heads.
if color contained, all would hold a bright hue:
but with peace! oh, the thought!
none would know what to do!

rather than let it be any great help,
they'd hurriedly store it away on a shelf.
[of what could it ever be any great use?
its obsolete now, they would mumble, confused.]

but all those who have it are blessed without doubt:
i'd rather die with it, than live life without!