Tag Archives: painting

inside the lake

It was the middle of ’04, and you could call it summer, except it was perpetually summer there. We sat in a circle in the grass and laughed at every little blade of grass, feeling that startlingly enchanted feeling of … Continue reading

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contrary thingsĀ 

They promised that they would live to a song of their own making when they could sing and make music. It would be like a patch of grass, that song, floating on the ocean, on an endless wave. There would … Continue reading

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shoes

Light and fleeting, making you feel like your walking, and you have places to go, like you could walk up walls, and across the ceiling, or find out what makes the sky crack open, like you could make music with … Continue reading

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train

There are so many things I don’t get, like how people are able to sit so still with nothing in their hands, no timeline in their heads, no words bouncing off screens reflected in their eyes. I don’t get how … Continue reading

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The other side of the wall

Said the first lady to the second ” Maybe there is a land, a secret place where there grows blue things and people and there is enchantment and wonder and power and romance, and you could ride off.into the sunset … Continue reading

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the golden bird

Random strokes of your consciousness, slowly make out the bird in the clouds as it flies and brings gold off its page of lines and color. It makes you wistful, and a little intoxicated. Heady and beguiling, you are soaring … Continue reading

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City thoughts

I am a woman of a thousand faces, everytime I look in the mirror, I see a different person. I sit and do horrible things to my face and then I go to the city and think and think. On … Continue reading

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Addiction

I look at the city, laid out before me, through a veil of tears, the living city that never sleeps, like a monster or a star. And I wonder why I did it, why I chose to do it,why I … Continue reading

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the meeting

I never thought that we would bleed again so profusely, so much blood, each stroke down, a little more in control, each stroke up, the words a little rounder than before, the blood spurts like a small spring from the … Continue reading

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wild and free

They talk about the tiger and the hawk being wild and free, but the only tiger I’ve seen were half dead in cages, and hawk, in chains, while the sparrows and the pigeons fly, their tiny bodies circling the black … Continue reading

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