Wednesday, August 15, 2012

To A Singer

You're crying as you sing
to send a memo to his being,
and you would wiggle your butt
toward the audiences
whose hearts fall apart!
The air sits quiet,
Words blaze for nothing,
Day fails above the hill,
A summer fugue is woven,
fish flings wild under the water,
Bygones stir but no more matter.

Image Credit:, msn...

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

I'm A Marble (For Short Story Slam Week 24)

I'm a marble
with patterns of curved olives,
My head a ball of yarn,
Retroactive, projective,
My arms are snakes,
stretching out
or shrink within,
and so does my chin,
My eyebrows are soft brushes.
My back is a smooth stone,
I'm happy at home,
I roll where the floor goes,
it's a miracle,
It goes bowling near a lake,
and rests at the gate,
I reside tenderly
under the roof, with no weight.