Thursday, August 25, 2011


I sat on the stoop
The silence closed in
Enveloped me like a security blanket
Allowing me to hear the night time sounds
Usually muffled by daytime whitenoise-makers
Train whistles
There always seem to be train whistles
And planes roaring overhead
Outside my front door
Underneath only one single star
Bright enough to survive the smog
Of Los Angeles

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

intermission please

....she was tired
of feeling small
like a speck of sand
like a punctuation mark in a thousand page book
nothing wrong with feeling grand
with adventure
with remembering there is a fire somewhere in there
still kindling
even the smallest flame
to light the eyes that have fallen asleep
even in daylight
to illuminate a smile once so bright
incapable of apologizing now
now that she can see again
now that life has been placed back into her
she tried to stay invisible
to herself
...but she was so tired of the aching emptiness
she wrote it all down
all the x,y and z's
tore it into a thousand pieces
to throw away
tiny colors, like confetti.

Monday, August 15, 2011


that which survives on no water
no air
deep down in the root of
in her nature
the craving has been awoken
food does nothing
to satisfy her
cigarettes, alcohol, caffeine,
do not appease the need
curling up into her veins
seeping through skin
pheremones diffused by
grapefruit and vanilla perfumes
faint traces of dirt on his shirt
act like a catalyst
she feels posessed
by some kind of devlish thing
back arched
and fighting
she will never be stronger than he is
she has succumbed
to feeling greedy
to feeding hungrily
upon the air he breathes
when he exhales into her
the yearnings
twist hold round her wrists
and wrap round pony tails
into squriming words
she has become insatiable

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

always untitled

my words wont come to me
they sit on my tongue
dissolve into escaping breaths
i tend to look diagonally away
to the bottom left corner
of the page that is you
underlining phrases
writing notes in the margins
dog earring the moments i want to remember
to read again and again
at a later date
archiving moments of whispers
cataloging the tastes and the smells of you
furiously writing word after word
to remember all the different ways your hands feel
upon my easily bruised flesh
more delicate than a thick skin should be
removing my innate modesty from the equation
this one time
trying not to let open eyes betray me
as they tend to do
just a moment of eye contact can melt this candy shell
revealing the secrets i keep caged up in my chest
where the poems are born from
where a muse can carve their initials into me
to embrace the nature of the adventure
speaking words through fingertips again
disappearing into the sound of your heartbeat
where my ear touches your chest to hear the ocean.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

from the inside of things

the stone has been thrown
creating a cascade of ripples
travelling down the spines of things
like a foot walking over your future grave
from seconds to minutes
from hours to days
seemingly ordinary choices
pave the way for extraordinary moments
shivers of deja vu double takes
feeling perhaps for once this is the correct place to be
or have you already lived this before
a different you with the same face
reciting the script that was written within
the subconcious autobiographies
of inner dialogues
never ceasing
when i think about the magic of simplicity
breathing in
breathing out
it makes my insides shake and quiver
wishing for once to have that blissful ignorance
but the fire seems so bright
the cold air so crisp
the water is so smooth to my touch
the air thick with so many moments happening around us
like falshbulbs popping and popping
reminding us not to forget
it is all so unstable
today i live the creation of choices made decades ago
as our days continue to tumble down hills
dissolving into the ocean where we came from
waiting for inspiration
absolution and enlightenment
but settling for what passes as passing the time
searching for lightning bolts in starry night skies