

An Islander's GuideThe Islander's Guide to AviationAn Islander's Guide
I bemuse the sun trying to ascend to her height &nbs


snow in the summertimesnow in the summertimesnow in the summertime
it's snowing again for the third day in a row
soft white petals stab at my eyes
scattered here and there by unseen currents
and the sky is big
big enough to wrap a world in
waiting by the leaning bus stop
cradled by the afternoon heat
passing cars whip up tornados of yellow dust
they float for a while before sinking to the ground
like sweat tracing a finger down the landscape of my spine
and everything is lazy here
&nb


tucsontucsontucson
We tread carefully, dust clinging
to our feet; the clicking
of latches.
Thoughts unpacking themselves.
Where we go there are no
footprints, only inverted shadows:
we can't pronounce
the name of our country
the nation to which
we belong.
The sun charts our progress
with her sextant.
Windows open and close,
their frames glistening
like the surface of a lake
seen from below. &nb


when lorca met guevaraFor years I've longed to climb those hills between the pylons, beneath the telegraph wireswhen lorca met guevara
Globules sing like vibrating glass; as they fall I run for cover. There doesn't seem to be enough ears for all this sound.
And you're such a long way away South America maybe no sign of a postcard yet listening late at night to the radio static's aria the orchestral hiss as soothing as the gentle sapphire glow
from the screen of my computer I leave you messages that go unanswered
/Look at my knife it's such
a beautiful knife with
Devious Comments
Wow! You really are a brilliant poet, aren't you?
Why don't you join the poetry contest from [link] ?
It's free and every nitwit such as myself who enters gets a small gift
but someone like you might win one of their $10 000 or $100 000 prizes.
--
order the smexilious combination of black/white witticisms in batches of a thousand words complementing the plethora of shining images breathed into the blown-glass of poetry that is | mimesis | here.
N
--
please excuse my english
N
--
please excuse my english
bless you
--
live to the full
--
-Mai
--
"I wrote the first faint line, faint, without substance, pure nonsense, pure wisdom of someone who knows nothing, and suddenly I saw the heavens unfastened and open."
--Pablo Neruda, The People's Poet, Chile (1914-1973)
N
--
please excuse my english
-Mai
--
"I wrote the first faint line, faint, without substance, pure nonsense, pure wisdom of someone who knows nothing, and suddenly I saw the heavens unfastened and open."
--Pablo Neruda, The People's Poet, Chile (1914-1973)
--
There is no window in this room
Not that I really miss the view
It's just that I may soon forget the way the grass looks when it's wet
(lumorra aici)
--
[link]
Bri
--
Find me in the river, find me there
Find me on my knees with my soul laid bare
--
*let-it-di
N
--
please excuse my english
Previous Page1234 Next Page