[x]

rootslike drowned men who have lost their
clothes and faces, they lay suspended
facing the sun and grinning without
eyes through the ripples of the water.

those passing by wonder how they got here,
these homeless men without fingers or toes
long spindly stumps twisting into lost roots:

reaching to the east, to the south,
to the homes they have forgotten.

SomedayJane and Ellis floated parallel to one another across the vast canvas of space, eyeing the marble-like planets that slowly crept past them. Their skin reflected the starlight with a dull orange sheen. Ellis had called it 'planet gazing,' an activity he apparently thought suitable for a date.

"Do you see that one below us?" Ellis said, pointing to a round blue mass.

Jane shrugged.

"Isn't it beautiful?" he asked. "I'll bet it's beautiful on the surface, too. Like the way the dust begins to spiral when a star is forming."

"Something like that," Jane said. She didn't understand his excitement. Planets were nothing interesting. They were just

relearning i. stardust scatters with the
direction of my pupils –
maybe secretly i am an
astrology teacher, waiting
for a sign to wink
happily at me.

ii. excuse the rambling
nature of forgotten question
marks, but tell me:
would you like to be the
object of handwritten clichés
would you like to whisper
secrets in my palm
and would you
like to be the possibility

iii. air brushes against my
skin like the torn petals
of a flower still standing.
[ hold your head up high, honey,
and tell tomorrow to wait just
a while,

iv. so you can figure out
the difference between
patience and having all the

Flights of Fancy Nature is best seen through a window. Cars are nice, but televisions give a better view. The important thing is to keep a window, any window, between you and wilderness. This is my strictest maxim, a rule of comfort I put aside only once, years ago. I spend most of my life expressing shock when friends say they're going on a hike or planning to camp out.

It took two hours for Leon to convince me to accompany him on a short ride to the hills. I thought it would be safe. Leon was a good friend. Though he knew that particular day was my day to hit the mall and hang out with the gi

on commuting with no hurrythere you go
lighting matches in the rain,
walking with two feet
that the gods gave you
because they cannot walk,

heading home as if with news
of some miraculous disaster,

counting the steps between yourself
and the clouds that disappeared
behind the grey veil of October.

thunder and lightning unfold
so close above

and you dream of a destination
somewhere in the south

where birds and stormy weather coexist.

behind you there is nothing,
running water will erase
every footprint you have left
on the dark sand of this metropolis.

before you there is distance,
enough to live your life
in a constant state of travel,

but not n

Like petals and leavesWhen she thinks of him, she thinks of tree branches:
spindly fingers spread out, stretching
in angles wide for handfuls of sky.

And she thinks of him.

She thinks of him digging his toes
into soft, damp sand,
wading in shallow depths before
being carried by crescents of the sea.

She thinks of him in a blur of curls, in the
warmth on her waist and the coolness on her lips,

pressing the memories and the maybes
like petals and leaves
to paper.

And she thinks of him.

SolsticeOnce upon a time, when you were still sunlighthouses and shimmering existence wherever you were needed most, you found him. He was November, shaky on his first last legs, and you saw through the mind-twistings he feigned to the mind-twistings that were really there, knotted up in his dreams.

You were still birdsong then, and thunderstorms, and your bodyheat melted the frost claws that held him tight. You held onto him as his November deepened. When he howled, you howled with him, and the wind played with your voices and pressed the softness of your lungs against your cageribs—and then against each other's.

November became solstice, and

The Substitution ParadigmThe Substitution Paradigm

Ramu came up to our table. Glaring at me, he said, “You either order something or get out.”
I glanced away from the threat, and turned to Raghav. A single drop of sweat was running down his brow. Ramu saw that too and identifying his prey, he sprung.

Swinging around, he faced Raghav, “Order something or get out.”

Then Ramu just stood there. It was not as if we had rehearsed it before hand, but he knew. He knew that my co-occupants generally folded in the first round. Only the stout made it to second level, but they too buckled under Ramu’s relentless gaze.

I always had a policy of n

Submerged in Swan Lake

Swans and wings are floating by
on a breeze imbued with jasmine and
willows outstretching their arms in welcome.

Through deep breaths he arrives
plunged in murky, pungent water.
A quiet whisper, and he prays -

"Please... may I linger here?"

Willows lower their arms
and jasmine falls to the Earth
where the wind dies and finally rests.

The crows are cawing hymns,
begging to be swans.
But only the duck submerged in Swan Lake
has delved the desired shore.

Its waters dangerous and plagued
by monsters baring their teeth;
most ghastly and putrid they are
that no crow may ripple its surface
nor any songbird seeking beauty fair.

The Swan M

The SeizuresSkye has a seizure at dusk, and we're alone.
I hold her wrists
down
so she doesn't fall from her hospital bed,
turn her on her side and hit the nurse distress button
screaming for someone to help us.
She's shaking uncontrollably,
and the bracelets on her wrists move
in a discordant lullaby.
Then it's over,
and the nurses come and check her pulse,
her blood oxygen, her motor control.
She can talk again, but she's confused
and doesn't know who she is.
She can't move her legs.
I stroke her hair and tell her where she is,
help her slow her breathing, and help the nurses.
Our roommates return, and she starts seizin

grassy field with rustgrassy field with rust
--------------------------

I'd heard about the old car, three miles out of town and all alone. I just had to see it. It was time. School was over for the summer, my friends were at camp, and I was bored. I set out Thursday morning for a hike, following directions that Uncle Will had given me. As the heat was still growing with the climb of the sun, I found the field and wandered around looking, and looking some more, trying not to be distracted by bees buzzing in the flowers, and butterflies and baby mice. Then it was there, just a bit upslope from the bottom of a natural swale, and just below the sky at th

mia culpa, mia miasmaI'm still counting chromosomes and odd numbers
still playing hopscotch over the symmetry
of your shoulder blades, your whispers
skipping 'cross the seventy percent water
the one forty proof rum, still running
running sheep
until we can sleep,
we,
that thing they called relationship
something common, like counting
rocks at the bottom of a wishing well.
I am slipping through, sliding into
a seamless cervix, and she's serving
throat lozenges in the mean time,
mean time and mean country
serving time in this union, this marriage,
they served cough and coffee
held the Capricorn, held up the register
held the infant to the sag

RosesYou love too much, I am told by a man with a briar heart, thorny sinews and collapsed ventricles bearing down on him, hardly beating in his tight chest. He looks at me with flat, slate eyes, chipping and eroding. His hands are dark with cigarette burns and rough with calluses; I feel them on my shoulders as he looks down at me, face collapsing in at his eyes like a dead man's.

For the first time, I realize he is dead. His briar heart dried up when winter killed his rose; my father, he is all thorns.

He squeezes my shoulders, too tight. You look like your mother, you know, he whispers, eyes shifting to the garden, to the yellow rose I plante

IfWe can
draw lines and give them names
like elements
as they are discovered

Or etch into our skins
this soloecal desire
until it is impossible to tell
where words stop
and life begins.

I would

Find a common rhythm that includes
you in my arms, my hands
and lungs and thoughts
tracing the outline of you
entangled with me
colliding like two lost particles
locked in a shared gravity
drifting through the vacuum
of space.

I could.

Exhale, and
remember
sentence structure.

DormantWinter is a blank slate,
but not like Rousseau's—
it cleanses
sucking out warmth like poison
leaving only windburnt frost
tacked to the window pane

all we remember
is the numbness
the shuddering
skittish steps across the ice
snowflakes pasted to our faces
smoke rising from our lips
dragged across bleak clouds

winter has us captured
bound by fur and walls
drifting in our eggshelled silence

bone cold until we birth ourselves by warmth
emerge from our shells wet and heaving
uncurl our fingers one by one
joints crackling like fire at our backs

until spring comes
drip by tender drip
old wounds thaw
we are found raw,

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Written in my eyes as I look at youmy body misses your oceanic fill.

touch me with your waters
for every shake of earth I make
respond in tidal wave:

finger tip
grasp
and pull-

fucking erode me.

lap at the shores of my stomach
toward my legs, and come back up again.

be careful and precipitate slowly

stay above me;
drip and slip into me
(rainfall)

flood me-
I want to be the roof of your mouth,
feeling the careful tease of your tongue as you say
"I love you"

Writer's BlockIdeas tend to scatter through the brain like light in a room
too fast for the eye to see or the soul to understand
immediately, individually or slowly
but they happen
indefinitely.
You're looking for a way of doing things.
Yes,yes,yes,yes,yes!
But you've got to be free
or at least something like it.
You have to upset the prison you're in;
Shake your hearts incarceration
and make it think
believe
its free
but it is and will be in actuality.
Just talk to me;
listen to Bruce lee.
"Don't think
feeeeel."
Forget how it sounds.
Profound? Where is that found?
Truth is only here.
Stop searching.
Be silent.
Listen

.
Even nonsense

The secret night circus art of hearing heartbeatsIn this spacious aorta tent we've got tightrope veins ready to start the show.
Acrobats:
Joy,
Anger,
Sorrow,
Comfort!
Look
out
below
emotions!

We've got no net!

All we've got is this fine line and its card-decked!
Off goes the first,
Joy
flipped,
slipped,
and
dipped
not on to floor
but on to the other side of her impossible act!
How in fact?
Has Joy turned into Anger?
Look in wonder as she is he and he is defying gravity.
Red man rising.
Running and jumping,
Upside down,
gravity pushing up,
none of it makes sense!
As the crowd goes wild
he jumps and breaks the line,
falling up and down he goes

Irrational NumbersWe are lost in time:
we are leaving as we are greeting,
walking down broken streets
with ghosts drifting past.

Another glass
and all the way down
the
12 bar
blues
the ocean has swallowed the sun.

The joined and unchained,
unbound and insane,
Fiery and passionate,
we are
Raining and compassionate.

You are pacific cold
and
I am versed in fire breathing,
supernova blazing.

We are the duality
the solution and the argument,
opposite to the other
and for the other,
negative to the positive,
positive to the negative.
Maybe we were canceling out in our sum.
We sometimes were too close in number
in our affectionate space from zero.

Maybe we we

ArenaI am writing a piece by piece
Piece
that breaks to pieces
to describe you.
+
A drawn together,
broken,
wholeness.
+
Like sugar mixed in sand
you are attempting
a sweetly bitter
Self independence from
self,and
self,
and self.
=
Decending
chaotically
you fall apart
in order
to land together.

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Submitted: November 7, 2012
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Cheap fix, 360

by ~BlueSoulGreenMind, Nov 7, 2012, 3:26:48 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Unbound structure;
unhinged bones
locked together
with unsymmetrical
unfit screws.

None of these are meant to be here.
They are
cheap and shaven
and the
grooves are rusted.

There is no tool that can pull them out without breaking,
without collapsing
the planned out
unintended construction.

We had the instructions sure
and all the parts
but
in our fumble,
in the exchange of hands
of ALL the people who
intended to help us;

in all the accidents

(and

no one at fault
or
taking fault
for all our faults)

some fell beneath the table
underneath the drawer
into dark unreachable corners
so we worked with what we had
and made our own instructions but it was never
the perfect picture.

It wasn't everything it was suppose to be.
Unfit construction
in function.
She seeks for the imperfect
perfection or maybe
she just wants to work
without breaking.

Cheap fix, 360by ~BlueSoulGreenMind

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

She's facing forward and bearing her heart.
I am looking at her back.
nerves and the tower of her spine
nervous
nervous system
misfiring
she's electric.
Electrocuted I lay in daze
and she tilts her head to the right
wondering why
I seek to taste her lightening
my heart is lost thunder
left behind
and
she forgets light is faster then sound

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Daily Deviation

Given 2012-12-07

Cheap fix, 360 by ~BlueSoulGreenMind ( Suggested by *UnspecifiedUnknown and Featured by ^Beccalicious )

love 1 1

joy 2 2

~~wow 0 0~~

~~mad 0 0~~

~~sad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~Archangel-33 Mar 23, 2013

splendid work.... thanks for writing that...

~BlueSoulGreenMind Mar 23, 2013

Thanks for the comment and the praise.

*KaitForest Dec 7, 2012 Writer

congratulations on the dd, i was waiting for it!

~BlueSoulGreenMind Dec 12, 2012

Thank you I really appreciate it. I never imagined that I would get a DD but thanks for thinking so and watching it become a reality.

~NnyorNieorKnee Dec 7, 2012

I love it~

~BlueSoulGreenMind Dec 12, 2012

Many Thanks.

*JakesException Dec 7, 2012

Sort of reminds me of my style...
Maybe that's why we both got DDs? XD

Either way, well done.
An engaging piece definitely deserving of the award.

~BlueSoulGreenMind Dec 12, 2012

I appreciate it. I'll be sure to read your stuff sometime soon.

*Blacksand459 Dec 7, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

Outstanding!! I wish I could explain in literary terms why I love this piece.
But it simply is arresting. Coupled with the lines in the comments section, the overall effect is one of intense perseverance and love, in my opinion.

"so we worked with what we had
and made our own instructions but it was never
the perfect picture."

"I seek to taste her lightening
my heart is lost thunder
left behind
and
she forgets light is faster then sound"

One of the best poems I've read all year. Congratulations on a very well-deserved DD!!!

~BlueSoulGreenMind Dec 12, 2012

Wow! I love the two sets of lines you put together from the comments section and the poem itself. They flowed wonderfully you have a nice eye! I like the two words you used to describe it; intense perseverance and love. Thinking back to writing it that was the exact emotion I wanted to portray I'm glad I could make you see that. Many thanks for the compliments.

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