December 2011
11 posts
6 tags
Burning the Old Year
Letters swallow themselves in seconds.
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.
So much of any year is flammable,
lists of vegetables, partial poems.
Orange swirling flame of days,
so little is a stone.
Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.
I begin again...
3 tags
3 tags
3 tags
I Wrote This For You: The Forest Of Stars →
“If you were to press your heart close up against somebody else’s heart...”
– Andrea Gibson (via asleeplessmindxvx)