August 2012
58 posts
3 tags
Will be taking about a two week break from tumblr. Carry on, darlings. I shall return :)
4 tags
Did you have something to say?
Listen, there’s nothing to it and let’s not get into this again having been down one road too many and too many roads too short in temper, I mean, like a fuse on dynamite that’s set and ready or chutes and ladders laid down u n st e a dy against the fire-painted siding of a burning house.
5 tags
Age of Innocence
Something about us seems damned— to repeat myself, walk half a city block and scream at traffic, pedestrian crossings line up so parallel, so perfect, all meanderings dismissed to other times, in other places where grass grows up between old wheel ruts, wrought iron gates unlocked and secret doors cracked open.
6 tags
With Shouts of Joy
Up on the lonely mountain and down in the wet valleys filling up like a tin cup beneath rain gutters all rusted a-plenty, my dear you haven’t seen a scene like this all summer and take heart, raise your humdrum glass to catch the drops before they pass.
“What can I do with my happiness? How can I keep it, conceal it, bury it where I...”
– Anaïs Nin. (via theburnthatkeepseverything)
6 tags
Silence is Golden
Drum beat hums in a hive, he found her sitting with a locket on a chain mail delivered through a slot machine said don’t be in a hurry as the windfall won’t be coming, took a turn a chapter back in fear of motorcades and mausoleums, no one says just what they’re thinking, but standard issue grief is pretty if you dress it up in black.
5 tags
Very Truly Yours
A business formality, I am not so put away your briefcase and save the stationary for someone who doesn’t know every contrived hope and materialistic dream that ripples through your overtaxed and underwhelming brain at intervals that would shock your mother and leave your wife wondering whether the price of the white dress and the perpetual (though lackluster) date was worth it.
11 tags
6 tags
Damp and Heavy
Many hands on deck, scrubbing the snow white flanks of a long buried battalion in the prickly ash, knelt with one knee bent on moss dew-soaked straight through.
5 tags
All things trite and beautiful
Matches strike with inevitable brilliance and I hike my skirt up to my knees in the heat of a Northeastern summer and the droughted landscape dies a little more as I sip poorly mixed lemonade from a coffee cup with too many useless and unremarkable memories and try to look on the bright side.
6 tags
Give me his address and I'll go punch J. Alfred in...
Do I dare to eat a peach? What a stupid question. Do you like peaches? Are they delicious? Then eat it. And stop bothering me.
5 tags
Confess Now, Friend
When I say I miss you, I mean I ache to be enveloped in your arms, to hand over the lilies and the lace, the satin and Sundays of childhood, close the curtains and bury my head in your shirt.
8 tags
Just Think
Let’s just let go and fly all the way to Mexico where the sunset melts like a tangerine snow cone and the porch swing’s a smooth ride— a Caribbean lullaby, with indigo flowers in my hair and little umbrellas in your drink just think of me perched on that railing head tipped back and eyes wide shut you strum, our summer voices honeyed, mellowed, softer— two...
6 tags
Jung and Reckless
Half-lidded eyes in glass mirrors of muddled morning dreams that sink and swim in courtesy of leaving out the truest parts that tease the edge of conscious waking of you and me, in costume faces words spoon fed by subtle gestures making little sense, and yet when I lay me down to sleep you’re all I ever see and that, at least, means something.
4 tags
“They spoke very little of their mutual feelings: pretty phrases and warm...”
– Thomas Hardy, Far From the Madding Crowd (via inspiringserendipity)
2 tags
howitzerliterarysociety replied to your post: Gaudy, God Blast Them Baubles
/two-faced mess of curls and fifty dollars in snake oil/ My God what are you doing? This is magnificent. Who needs coffee with this kind of kick around? Best Regards
You’re a doll for saying so. Thanks! :)
2 tags
thesealivesinme replied to your post: Separate Bank Accounts, People…Seriously
You write as if you are afflicted. ;)
It’s all an act, I promise. An awesome rage-filled, melodramatic one ;)
6 tags
Gaudy, God Blast Them Baubles
Saw a pearls-draped woman two-faced mess of curls and fifty dollars in snake oil spilled for the fun of it. Little wait here, little dogs there, wine all red, white and blueberries make a nice vintage as long as you cork it tight but with mange, old age and hookworms to worry about— how do you sleep at night?
7 tags
I claim a sadder thing
I claim a sadder thing I’ve never done, apparent on my face a shade of blush— I’ve never had the nerve to up and run and claw through forest brambles in a rush but even I would say I should have fled though reason holds no sway within a flame that burns through flesh and blood in fiery red and brings an honest woman only shame. I should have held my tongue, I should have known...
4 tags
Atrophy in the Attic
Set this scene and knotted heard a sound like a mouse scratching nibble, dribble, feet so fast across the attic and up spread unrested feathers of pigeons nesting in pineapple-upside-down bowler hats, all brocaded and dusty, wide and filled to the crusted brim with straw broom bristles and yellowed paper flowers.
7 tags
Nostalgia Is a Wasteland
A heap of empty soda cans, a wilting day lily, tangled sheets, thick fog on a country road, intermittently paved, a ceiling fan that rattles as it spins in the guest bedroom of an abandoned house, the sound of footsteps in the stairway, an old friend (whose name you’ve misplaced), a torn dress, stale bread, a broken bottle of whiskey on a linoleum kitchen floor, a shoe box full of love...
“oh lover, you should’ve come over
‘cause it’s not too late
it’s never over
a...”
– jeff buckley (via starsandskin)
4 tags
He spoke mangled, ghetto French and she was a...
He was smiling and smoking a cigarette while hailing a taxi at ten after two on St. Catherine’s Street. She was wild-child drunk and recently barefoot, dancing on a street bench to the bi-national anthem she improvised (and improved) in under three minutes.
C’était chouette.
6 tags
Hells-Bells and Daisy Chains
Tripping in a copse one forget-me-not colored Wednesday I drew faith from the flowers like poison from a vein and made a chain of yellow-eyed loveliness in a meadow doused in rain and all pain, doubt and indifference made a crow’s nest of hair, twine and needle-work pine, from which I sprouted wings and flew away.
5 tags
Heartland
Hold steady, my little love with no more black clay to dig your toes into, just dust, dust, dust, dust and more dust sputter in the crust, choke on another dry and roasted, cringeworthy day.
5 tags
Don't Put Your Faith in the Universe
Morning stars fall— just look at Lucifer and red-eyed flights to red planets are a long way off bang now what was that? Something collapsed in the hallway under the stairs, I crept for fear of making it angry Bang
there it goes again, with aftershocks— flavored pop rocks in your ten-year-old mouth BANG it all seems a little arbitrary it all seems a little less than BANG! fine,...
2 tags
howitzerliterarysociety asked: / Irreverence and sass forever, baby/ My god would that make a cool t-shirt. Your work is a pleasure to read. It's like being passed a beer on a sandy beach right before a volleyball hits you in the head and I mean that as a compliment. Best Regards, King Stimie
4 tags
Maudlin Marmalade Merry-Go-Round
Do you ever wonder about Mary Ann? How she slaves away for the white rabbit, in her ungloved hands? Perhaps the teetotaling Hatter or the chatty March Hare occasionally invite her over for a brimming cup of air and while there she contemplates life and the wonderment of strife as a virtue being ripe for the picking, as an apple on a branch hanging low above the table where the door mouse fills his...
4 tags
Contrary-
Lay me down softly on this bed of mint leaves roses are tacky and diamonds don’t please me.
4 tags
Serendipity
The Lord said to my lord, time is spare change in my pocket, untariffed trade and sealed up plaster, packaged tight and sent to Egypt par avion and heavily taxed by six parlor trick plagues and one night of standing room only— ignored, the fourteenth century laughs and coughs and laughs, wrapped in a homeless man’s jacket spitting up sputum and asking for blankets.
