the wndy wind blew away wendy
wendy the hamster had a hat
that i hadn’t knitted yet
but it tore and swore
on the marvelous gaze
of the windy wind of may or way or when
and if they whistled and whoostled
if they hustled and hissled
if they caboomed and carrooned
then i’d maybe have
one more of you
sitting on one more of me
again a cycle was broken
because she leapt rather than cowered
because she smiled and grinned when before
she hardly dared uncover her teeth
no matter how undamaged they were
pearls of laughter had long ago abandoned her
she stood and swayed
and hunched her back
where it matters
she laughs and
her mouth is wide open
i’m not broken.
i broke myself into pieces as he tore into me with his words. i’ve broken myself because i let him, even knowing the effect it had on me. i stared at myself in every reflective surface, i wrote and drew and drew into myself too. and still, i decided to give it a shot, to give it one more chance. one more chance…[Read more]
somehow it came back.
he had thrown it away more than a few times: once he had dropped it on the way home, other times he thrashed it at someone else’s place, in the back alley, at the city dump. Nothing ever worked though. He was always finding it again, sitting on his bed or quietly folded, the infernal flannel that bore him no ill, but which…[Read more]
man wears flannel for many reasons. the first of this is the honey-bee principle: as long as they stick to their favorite shirts and plaids, bees will give them sufficient respect and heed their calls for sweet kisses in the bushes, forever and always. it’s an old accord, but it has never disappointed the agreeants.
she was startled out of her mind when she realized he stood this close to her.
his smell was that of sandalwood and spices; cinnamon and ginger and something not quite describable, but she liked it. it reminded her of exotic trips she had always denied herself. it reminded her of the moon taking a swim at sunset, and of all the fairy lights over…[Read more]
i noticed a lack of color in her missing eyes
the sun had left a while back, weeks and months before she turned
and became the age of her mother’s best memories
it certainly did not matter
she laughed and clapped
and leaned in just enough to whisper,
for you always, for you are dear,
but it sounded like her heart had been…[Read more]
an engine with as much firepower? i couldn’t get that for you
a rocket powered with the fire of a thousand suns that could drive us over all the edges of all the galaxies? i couldn’t even begin to dream it for you.
a gun and a bit of powder, to murder all those dark thoughts lingering and have nothing remaining but our happiness?
there was nobody more selective than the female mind on a vacation love spree. she scanned every face, every clothing item. she scanned the drinks, finding a meaning for each cocktail and each squeeze of lemon; she scanned the way forks were held, the way tongues were loosened. she analyzed his gait, and she scrutinized his weight. she held his…[Read more]
it’s just a cough, she said, holding out her hand. it won’t harm you.
they all say that.
yes, but half of them are right too.
it wasn’t like he’d been born yesterday. it always started with just a cough; and soon, you felt dizzy and weak and you needed help. and since he was falling in love with her, it just made it worse; how…[Read more]
she was a tutor of many things, but the main one was a tutor of love and wisdom. to love wisdom, and to wisely seek love. she had a great heart for this, and its melody was heard across the country: thus all of those who wanted to learn knew where to come seek help. she welcomed them humbly in her wooden house, and served them soup as long as they…[Read more]
once upon a time, I was a tutor. of languages; tongues were my things, ya know. and now I wonder if that translates to being a teacher – if it makes any sense. should I do that? should I become what I once was, with a bit more students and a bit more material to teach? was I good at it — not that is not the question. the question isn’t if I was…[Read more]
they are being saved. i saw it in my inbox; birdlife sent a mail, said projects were being put in place to save them.
vultures, vultures; associated with bankers, with sneaky people out to cheat and rob you. they are dark and skin, they are skin to bones to flesh and blood. who might love a vulture? not i; not you. but they need to be protected.…[Read more]
it is the same word! again and again, the tables turn and the show goes on, but we are naught but blurbs of skin and flesh, sweating profusely under the sun, and our kisses show all of this in its most disgusting form. and yet and yet, could there be more? what do we have to offer to the world anyway that we want to take more? and what is it we’re…[Read more]
finish what you have started, he screamed.
there was a shotgun hanging on the wall, and it had been there from the start. she should have known; it was always the same, wasn’t it? she grabbed onto the blanket, pulling it roughly, and he didn’t bother to stop her – only cursed at her.
i haven’t started anything that you hadn’t gunned for to…[Read more]
it was a matter of whom he had given his best kept secret to. before, he had barely dared give it to the sky or to the trees – old folktales had told him stories of how it could be transmitted from a plant to an actual human being. it was no wonder he had grown up suspicious; from the wolves hiding behind the trees who hid the forest to the…[Read more]
the solar system was such a system that it could hardly be understood before the tender age of three; or five; or seven, really, depending on how dim the children may be. Crabbe and Goyle were of the sort that barely grasped it even at eleven, when they had their first lesson in the astronomy tower. others were not so devoid of brains.
buddha was the fat dude across the street, living right above the corner store. his face had not wrinkled yet, and it had not ever gotten stubble or beard. it was a round about face, with creases made by laughter rather than by age, and a good amount of fat stretching out the cheek region. it had not seem to anyone that buddha george would have a…[Read more]
she gave me the best mixtape she’s ever made
well at least up to that day in history
her fringe fell swiftly upon her eyes, her hair a mess of waves and curls
she had something of a pouty lip, but none of the seduction to go with it
only sulk and misery and arrogance
she was not pretty but
un mixtape pour attraper
la toile qui lui pend du nez
un mixtape pour confesser
les araignées qui s’essayent
à se sauver
un mixtape pour toujours, un mixtape pour l’amour
un mixtape à se taper sur les doigts
un mixtape qui n’en finit pas
un mixtape pour changer la toune
un mixtape pour ne pas arrêter
un mixtape comme on n’en fait à peine plus