Thoughts impregnated until they rip

open ripe

sweet as a persimmon

as I firmly grip

My ribs as tender as it’s bruised skin

changing the mask of face

A hint of sex

like naked skin under a piece of lace

choking cynicism and it’s mother

No reason nor mercy

but imagination, like no other

and what remains

is a deep and gut wrenching

knot, provoking your insides

preparing you for that which is nearing

You are now so close to

it.

+ Share

No Comments »

Yet so the universe was wrought.
Thought is another name for fate;
Choose then thy destiny and wait,
For love brings love and hate brings hate.

- Henry Van Dyke

+ Share

No Comments »

Hail to the small diversions;

Fantastical ideas becoming simple realities

A woman caught right at her most vulnerable

Curled up in fetal position, in limbo, or running away

Photographs by Maya Chandally

+ Share

No Comments »

We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams;—
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the world for ever, it seems.

+ Share

No Comments »

Crab dance

+ Share

No Comments »

We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don't

grow on trees, like in the old days. So where

does one find love? When you're sixteen it's easy,

like being unleashed with a credit card

in a department store of kisses. There's the first kiss.

The sloppy kiss. The peck.

The sympathy kiss. The backseat smooch. The we

shouldn't be doing this kiss. The but your lips

taste so good kiss. The bury me in an avalanche of tingles kiss.

The I wish you'd quit smoking kiss.

The I accept your apology, but you make me really mad

sometimes kiss. The I know

your tongue like the back of my hand kiss. As you get

older, kisses become scarce. You'll be driving
home and see a damaged kiss on the side of the road,

with its purple thumb out. If you

were younger, you'd pull over, slide open the mouth's

red door just to see how it fits. Oh where

does one find love? If you rub two glances, you get a smile.

Rub two smiles, you get a warm feeling.

Rub two warm feelings and presto-you have a kiss.

Now what? Don't invite the kiss over

and answer the door in your underwear. It'll get suspicious

and stare at your toes. Don't water the kiss with whiskey.

It'll turn bright pink and explode into a thousand luscious splinters,

but in the morning it'll be ashamed and sneak out of

your body without saying good-bye,

and you'll remember that kiss forever by all the little cuts it left

on the inside of your mouth. You must

nurture the kiss. Turn out the lights. Notice how it

illuminates the room. Hold it to your chest

and wonder if the sand inside hourglasses comes from a

special beach. Place it on the tongue's pillow,

then look up the first recorded kiss in an encyclopedia: beneath

a Babylonian olive tree in 1200 B.C.

But one kiss levitates above all the others. The

intersection of function and desire. The I do kiss.

The I'll love you through a brick wall kiss.

Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth,

like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.    

- Jeffrey McDaniel    

**Thanks D**

+ Share

No Comments »