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concretekissListen.
It occurred to me days ago that the talent I give myself most credit for is that of self-admonishment.
In cluttered atriums there are domestic disturbances. Hungover fools who've worn out their welcomes. Fat calicoes in morning windows who dream of growing wings and snatching in midair the blackbirds that tease them. Blue girls who blush at old love letters, from prisoners in bare ventricles who mark their days on the walls. Your heart, the apartment complex, the impassioned fist keeping you awake, a peony, a cracked teacup, grenade, cardinal, apple, seashell, seed that loves to split.
Some days seem to follow a theme at the flower shop; It will be uncanny how many red-handed infidels file through the door with their tails tucked, pouting for consolation. Some days it is a succession of teary eyed families bereft of loved ones, stammering, their voices breaking over the condolences I pen onto cards for them. My hands are more steady.
I wonder if it is the stars, the moon's pull, some butterfly effect that eventually leaves them longing at the mouths of flowers to say what they find so difficult.
It's been muddy and wet out, perfect for staying in, which seemed to make last Friday the day for smitten boys who came in steady as the rain, one after another, their faces flushed in afterglow. Two of them grinned when asked to fill out the card, declining "She'll know...she'll know." One kissed my hand and almost floated out the door. And yesterday was in celebration of births, because 9 months ago people were doing all they could to keep warm.
It occurred to me days ago that the talent I give myself most credit for is that of self-admonishment.
In cluttered atriums there are domestic disturbances. Hungover fools who've worn out their welcomes. Fat calicoes in morning windows who dream of growing wings and snatching in midair the blackbirds that tease them. Blue girls who blush at old love letters, from prisoners in bare ventricles who mark their days on the walls. Your heart, the apartment complex, the impassioned fist keeping you awake, a peony, a cracked teacup, grenade, cardinal, apple, seashell, seed that loves to split.
Some days seem to follow a theme at the flower shop; It will be uncanny how many red-handed infidels file through the door with their tails tucked, pouting for consolation. Some days it is a succession of teary eyed families bereft of loved ones, stammering, their voices breaking over the condolences I pen onto cards for them. My hands are more steady.
I wonder if it is the stars, the moon's pull, some butterfly effect that eventually leaves them longing at the mouths of flowers to say what they find so difficult.
It's been muddy and wet out, perfect for staying in, which seemed to make last Friday the day for smitten boys who came in steady as the rain, one after another, their faces flushed in afterglow. Two of them grinned when asked to fill out the card, declining "She'll know...she'll know." One kissed my hand and almost floated out the door. And yesterday was in celebration of births, because 9 months ago people were doing all they could to keep warm.
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no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 03:53 pm (UTC)with a red candle and a bottle of wine.
I guess the hormones are surging every-
where.
It took me a couple of seconds to rea-
lise that that first picture was a paint-
ing, and not a photograph!
no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 04:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 04:35 pm (UTC)and wow thank you about the painting. i've a ways to go, but i spent alot of time cussing at that sunset.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 04:40 pm (UTC)and thanks. i have been looking over alot of ct scans.
x-rays are so fascinating. i wish i could have kept mine of broken bones and metal plates. i remember marveling at the screws in my femur. it had threads and a phillips head and everything! i thought they would look more...doctorly?
no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 04:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 04:54 pm (UTC)i have to be careful to not get carried away on roots and clouds. it's easy to go too far because they are so fun to paint. i have to make myself step back every now n then. :)
leaves them longing at the mouths of flowers to say what they find so difficult
Date: 2009-10-27 04:56 pm (UTC)like you
Re: leaves them longing at the mouths of flowers to say what they find so difficult
Date: 2009-10-27 04:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 05:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 05:22 pm (UTC)That is a fucking poem right there.
You are beautiful, as always. I wanted to say more but I have to go throw up now. :(
no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 05:55 pm (UTC)as long i have them in my head, it'll keep my hands busy!
no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 05:56 pm (UTC)stay away frm the smell of hotdogs! *NOSTALGIA GAG*
no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 06:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 09:18 pm (UTC)skies are really a free4all, but i get too fussy over them.
are you same as i being irritated by one thing no one else seems to mind? i kind of hate the orange streak coming in from the right :\
no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 09:45 pm (UTC)Wait, what?
Really?
Why?
no subject
Date: 2009-10-27 10:13 pm (UTC)i'm my own best critic?
no subject
Date: 2009-10-28 12:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-28 12:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-28 12:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-28 12:47 am (UTC)and if they did they will just disagree politely.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-28 12:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-28 12:48 am (UTC)and i am happy to be of service!
we should get together soon, you hear?
no subject
Date: 2009-10-28 12:55 am (UTC)but for the most part, the standards i set for myself are stupidly high, compared to those i set for others.
no subject
Date: 2009-10-28 01:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-10-28 01:36 am (UTC)girl if you lived nearby we'd start wearing matching pantsuits n everything!