Only Mermaids (original) (raw)

	Only Mermaids

November 25th, 2005

November 22nd, 2005

Hello, my petits choux! I hope everyone has a lovely Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday. Oh yes, and I would like to extend a very merry welcome to fatcagney !!!!!! Thanks for joining the community and post whatever you'd like.
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September 14th, 2005

Well I'm working on something right now, but I figured I'd share a few of my late night doodles. **( doodlesCollapse )**I really hope I did the cut's and stuff right *crosses fingers*
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September 7th, 2005

Hello my fellow jetsetters,I know the semester has just started (for all you college folk) and things are hectic (and tragical for all those displaced because of Katrina). I just wanted to drop a hello and encourage everyone to share writing/rants/concerns/personal anecdotes/knock-knock jokes. This is a strange little community that doesn't demand much, but exists as a demonstration of solidarity. xo,micheleOh yes, and Welcome xxtigerlillyxx !!!Feel free to post what you'd like :)

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August 29th, 2005

If Her Name is Anne or Margaret or Janethen she will keep to herselfand long for the seashore on full June nightsas the sheets tangle loosely around the delicacy of ankles and pink, flushed toes--that last slip of moon is revibrating a neon glow,lingering shy behind voluptious cloudsand the jaggedy gold hips of stars.To you, Anne or Margaret or Jane,I say this, like a cold hand placed overfevered heads: you are only the sunlightthat leaks rays into a tightly locked room--these uncommonly pretty things--and not the dustthat remans, and I will remember how to lace up skates perfectly before we let the weightof our legs slice over the ice, flaking it uplike snow--the trees rocking on either bank--if you fall, I will do more than band-aidsand vaseline, or frigid terry cloths pressed to skin.I know you will grow up in a forestand often forget a sock on one foot--this is okay.I will wrap my scarf around these naked partsto keep the warmth from traveling home intothe breaths of night air that balloon aroundour faces--you may want small canaries in oversizedmetallic cages before the autumn and this is okay--I will lead you behind the house, place the heavybinoculors in your small, pale hands and point to molten brown thrushes stalking insects in the trees.And sometimes I will not know their namesbut as my daughter you will keep your gaze aheadand you will not tilt your face up to ask why.

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You always lose yourself he bites into her neck. Give me that kiss, he says, digging into the side of her mouth, looking for the kiss that could not be gotten, her remembering Peter Pan and how Mrs. Darling was the first to own a beyond Neverland corner kiss, linger, linger. What are your inhibitions? he screams into her neck How do you dance the dance? She presses his ears. Contain yourself. You’re the impossible one he rocks into her. What is this song in you? she asks him. Scoop me up cherry red he breathes into her collarbones. He catches the hem of her blackened white dress, poor pretty satin clutching ink and charcoal smudges like storybook fingerprints. Look what you’ve done, he says. This dress was a wedding. I’ll marry only words. She stares frantically at the sky. I won’t let you steal me away. You premature poem he laughs darkly into the cave between her breasts. Your poet is a fool. You would know, she pouts, childishly. Sometimes I think I hate you. She digs her fingertips in his thighs. He comes at her, a kiss crashed into Neverland, the oasis of his brown heated mouth fizzling away and evaporating, the stark vapor filling her nose with the scent of inevitable. The genius of poetry is diminished by the amateur he howls blue gray into the back of her neck. Everyone starts somewhere she smudges a dripping war cry into his hand outstretched.

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August 28th, 2005

August 23rd, 2005

My friend Annie emailed me this poem and I thought it was really lovely:(from the poetry daily archives..) All in the Mind On the day to buy the pumpkins and the mums, children wearing masks pressed their faces against the glass of an orange bus. You could imagine how you would pick her up, point to where the birds were circling, ready to show her how chaos becomes a silver arrow, then leaves. You've dreamt it, the kid off in Europe, barefoot in the fountains, a Roman boy buying her coffee, touching her later in her room. This is when you wish you could call God back to say it was by design that you never had this child, that you could keep her here and hold her in the mind. Richard Wollman Crazyhorse Number 65 Spring 2004

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August 16th, 2005

LOVE SONG FOR ISHMAELHe wrote to me, sun-parched, a storm-poem;I have grown weary, wait to lay anchor. His seaward song brought me rains to fathom. On the dryest of days I was tossed numbThough now the world about schemes much blacker. He wrote to me, sun-parched, a storm-poem. Braved strange waters, across continents come, Piping raindrops over desert’s ochre, His seaward song brought me rains to fathom. His bass quenched summer’s dearth, its spent chasm; Marvelled Summer into Fall, each acre. He wrote to me, sun-parched, a storm-poem. His hands so full of wind and momentum Gave gale, swept up salt like sour liquor; His seaward song brought me rains to fathom. Eloped home now I am enchanted dumb;Yearn to nothing but again hoist anchor. He wrote to me, sun-parched, a storm-poem; His seaward song brought me rains to fathom.

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	Only Mermaids