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discoveryof all the hidden words in this world
you are one I never expected to find
a word without thought
a meaning without focus
a significance lacking direction,
you came upon me and filled me with wonder
in the moment of my utmost
and unguarded vulnerability
the askance looks
the hidden books –
every one betraying my attempts to define you
the high notes
the sarcastic quotes –
every smile hidden beneath an incomprehensible mask
the calm music of what you should be –
what you could be –
plays through my head
with a haunting,
all the more attractive
for its complex intricacy
and unpredictable nature
so many eyes
so many coal lines and rouged faces~
all beautiful and terrible and staring,
wondering at you
I can understand their fascination
for I feel the same fascination as they –
we writhe in an agony of curiosity,
desperate to really know<
A Sniper At Cavalry Baptist.Ten years later, we still talk about the day a man came to church with a gun.
Peter gave the sleeve of my shirt a gentle tug and I turned away from the front of the sanctuary, peeling my eyes from the always-enigmatic sermons of Pastor Arhipov. Peter did not say anything. He let his eyes do the talking, directing me to where his line of vision fell, far above the first floor and to the balcony. It was a fairly recent addition to the church; still not open for parishioner use. Donations and bake sales paid for it, though that morning it was home to an unexpected visitor, leaning over with his elbows on the ledge.
There was the gun. It was a big enough of a weapon to grab my attention, with a long and thin barrel and a scope mounted on top.
He was an odd man at first glance; unshaven yet well-dressed, and a bald head with a scar that ran around his left ear. He didn't look down at us from his perch, only straight ahead to
IntrepidI have to let go,
If I don't jump,
I may never fly.
And the fragments are carried in the embrace of the wind.
I've never felt
So safe and sound
Anywhere else but here,
A tear escapes
From the corner of someone's eye
As the ground grows closer.
I have lived a thousand lives
In this moment.
A smile is etched onto my face
And the tear hits the ground.
embroideryhis fingers were needles,
stitching thrills into her skin and
with words of scarlet thread:
trust no one.
it's excellent handiwork,
she clings to an empty loom
with bloodied nails and
in terminusyou say my timeline is infinitesimal
when compared to your hourglass
anatomy; a never ending cycle ticking
time away like a metronome, and
again gravity refuses to bend for me;
i cannot see the fault lines in our skies
any longer. my crystal ball is cloudy,
filled to the brink of destruction --
your broken words and the obscure
misology that is to be our fate.