Basilect

She says one thing but you hear another. Or maybe you choose to hear nothing at all. Everything is as it seems if you'd only pay attention. There's a whole group of people who live on the fringe because no one will let them in. What's the benefit of this ignorance? What do you gain from their losses? No respect, no dignity, no love. No way to live at all.

Pesade

Rear. Rearing a child. Rearing one's ugly side. Rearing into someone else. Hearing a child. Hearing one's ugly side. Hearing someone else. Most of the time it's fear that makes her act the way she does. We're all afraid of something. I'm afraid of her.

Pastiche

The sincerest form of flattery rarely got me anywhere. This chip is on my shoulder. This responsibility is mine alone to bear. Sometimes a certain little witch emerges to taunt me. She likes to blame others, but really she reminds me that I am the only one. Her best skill is endangering my happiness and the ties I share with others. My best skill needs to be making her disappear.

Percaline

Sugar-glazed cherries atop pineapple upside-down cake. Bright red polka dots on the fluffy yellow sea. Savory and moist, like another sweet he knows. He runs his tongue over his round white teeth, teasing out the traces. Like he'd like to do with her. But there will be time enough for that, he tells himself. For now he should just embrace the flavor.

Bodhisattva

Sacrifice. A future she can't forget. A present not worth remembering. Is this the choice that was made for her? She wonders as she weeps. She cries out as she sleeps. She isn't the person she once was; she's not sure she's human anymore. She feels more like a ghost, wandering, aimless, soulless. But maybe there's a reason. She just hasn't found it yet.

Convivial

Brightly burning fire at my back. Friends and family in front. Loud silly movie on the television, chocolate on the table. This is the holiday spirit we've developed. This is the way we enjoy our nights. This is the home I forgot to love. This is a place I'll never forget.

Cuttlefish

She sings the songs for eight days, but she doesn't know the spirit. She fasts and then feasts, skips and skitters. She's a poseur, but she means well. Does he appreciate her efforts to fit into his world? Does he even realize what he asks of her, how incompatible the two are at the core?

Dramaturge

I read her works in the line at the store. She didn't steal my heart, but I couldn't take my mind off the words walking across that page. Talking about life I only sort of knew. Food and sex and fear. Sadness. Strength. It didn't seem like a particularly good book, but still, for some reason, I'd like to read it. Maybe that's success.

Alacrity

With alacrity she follows the wings of the big bird who promised her home. There's no way to tell for sure where any of these small beasts will land, but the tigers, bears, horses and apes all know where they belong. Rise to greatness is inevitable. The little songbird record their tales.

Sleigh

Our interests are not unconditional in the way they covet the day. They slide on down the hill like mud, but we trudge through to the end. The bitters hang low on branches overhead, but we sail right by. These are the nights for watching sports and dreaming sweetly, not reliving grudges or making new ones.

Oviparous

Years fall away when the snow melts off the mountain. The valley pass clears and she finds her way to you. The warmth of her lips breathe rosy pink onto your cheek, your brow, your heart. That's where she leaves the seeds; the flowers to bloom in life's sweet time. That's where you lose yourself, because she's worth the fear. That's what you've always known.

Gesso

Anticipation, sticky and sweet, holding two sides together, covering up the bumps with its sleek, smooth surfaces. What kind of art can we make? I've determined not to think of any stroke as an accident, and you seem to be experimenting a little more comfortably. We haven't found the happy medium yet, but somehow I think we have a chance.

Chopine

These stilletos are killing me. I try to pry them off with the tips of my fingers, but the strap clings stubbornly to my ankle. It's too tight, too constraining. I'd ask you to unclasp them, but I already ask you for so much, don't I? I'm sorry. The lipstick stain on your collar isn't supposed to mar your outfit or even mark you as mine. It was merely an accident. A mistake, you know? I make so many of those with you.

Caduceus

Harried wings fly message and life, words tied to happiness and health. So many stories of marriages that crumble like dry cakes. The thunder of gods applauding our good plays. We dream softly of the past and wait to wake our lover. Sunlight creeps in and paints the world anew. Frost will return before I do.

Chinook

Self-conscious. Does nature ever feel that? How can one's own skin betray? A wind comes down from the good green mountain. You say it's too strong. I wonder how sharp her heels are, and if that's part of what makes her sexy. Sometimes you don't make sense to me, so I pretend to be myself.

Hols

Escape is not always a place. Holiday season melting into my heart. Jingle bells and the sound of your breathing in sleep. Not a long time to dream, but enough to feel I've lived. Maybe that's all it takes. Maybe the rest of my worries are wrong.

Sachet

Sweet scented scintillas of your perfume. I must be dreaming. Of a little girl with smooth soft skin, gently scrubbed, standing in the doorway. The scene ignites like a photograph with seared edges, and I'm sky-high following this sugar rush. Sounds signal the escape I'm to take, and the silliness of this situation makes me smile just a bit. Wherever I go from here, at least I've had this. It's something to keep.

Kerf

What if I make my mark too strongly? What if this groove, this indent, is too deep? A million questions run through my mind, even as I do the things that make me feel more at home. I'm not afraid to say I'm afraid, but I never say it anyway. There are a lot of things better left to Time. I'd rather enjoy the music and the cold air and the whispered sweets. Why through a pebble into the pond when tranquility is what you seek most?

Duomo

Words of wisdom washing over me as we sit by the side of the river and talk like no time at all had passed. The Duomo hovers in the background, and it's a wonder to me that the weight of its beauty hasn't sunk this golden city yet. Her eyes crinkle as I share a funny story, and my lips turn up when it's her turn. We are two old friends, so young still, so much left to learn. We are just beginning the true journey, and here in Florence, nothing could seem more amazing.

Dicephalous

Going to stop talking, let someone else do that for this entity. Two heads are okay, but we need one heart. The little girl whispers that she's terrified, even as the woman spurs herself bravely forward. Their man is waiting. The dichotomy lies not in the desire but in the ability to follow through. How do you know that you're ready? Maybe life won't lead you astray. Trust your one heart, listen to both your heads.

Rhombohedron

Visualization of the fit. One body melding into another. Spatial relations. Size and shape, skin filled out by flesh and muscle, sinew and rushing blood. Edge to edge. Joined hands, fingers gripping tightly, hipbones meeting without pain. Corner to corner. Legs and torsos form obtuse angles, fuse together, fancy toy, girl and boy. Point by point. Two dark circles, prominent, straining, reaching out to meet their partners, to touch one tip to another. Completion, celebration, collapse.

Bazaar

Cuando estabamos en El Rastro, yo pensaba en las cosas que no necesito. Los zapatos, los pendientes, las bolsas y las blusas. Los quería, pero no necesito. Más importante son las memorias y los lugares, los vientos y las montañas. El mar. La ciudad de los artes y las ciencias. Este verano, que nunca puedo tener otra vez. No puedo comprarlo, y no quiero venderlo. Es mío, para siempre. Como tú.

Joie de vivre

The rhythm is a movement translated from the stage to the heart, life becoming life. There's a way of saying what you feel without using a single word. I hear the music and I sing, la la la la la, hmm hmm, hmm hmm. Faces in the crowd, but the lights blind with their brilliance. Keep dancing until they black out, because this is your moment, your best, and maybe your only.

Petroglyph

Bodies on a wall. Two women, naked. Simple lines, gathering here, curving there. Sitting together, one hand on the other's knee. Thick dark hair, in both places. Why does she look sad? Why does the other look away? The tragedy of being female and not knowing why you bleed. Since the beginning of time, always the same.

Queenside

Everyone's queenside from where I stand. But I don't stand with them. I'm at your side, and so I share your view. We are looking at the same sky, the same horizon, the same birds taking flight--even if we use different words to describe them. I hold your hand, even when I cover my face to cry. I need you to hold back, even when you're walking away. Then I'll know you're only going so far, and I can wait.

Nugatory

The question. Is. Which. Is unimportant. To you. On one hand, I feel bad. For not being stronger. More secure. On the other, I know. I am. Despite what you might. See. This is not exacting. Not. Unreasonable. Neither are you. But. Unnecessary? Not really. Is it so? Wrong? I know. But. I want. To hear. I am loved.

Miter joint

Bend. Contort. Spread to fit. Woman does this for man. She takes him in, through the fear, through the pain. She rocks him. She holds him tight. He explodes with unearthly joy. But she is not in Heaven. Because he leaves her. And he does not understand. He does not soothe her with words, or reassure her with attention. He is man, and she is woman, but she is angel too. She is strong, and she will keep her faith. She knows his love. And should she lose it, even without warning, she would live on. That is the special power she was given to keep her safe.

Helter-skelter

Words. Carrying me forward. Rushing river. But what moves me? I'm not certain anymore. I'd like to be good with images, and with song. I'd like to be strong. I think I'm just tired. Rushing river and I'm struggling to swim. Everyone else seems to have found their lifeline, their out. Tal vez... tal vez Madrid.

Cocooning

I'm always looking at you, hoping to catch your eye. You're always looking the other way, but your hand stays warm on my thigh. I'd be more concerned if I didn't think I understood. I'd see things as bad if they weren't so goddamn good. Maybe things would be different, for me, if I liked my own skin. Then I'd stand my ground even when it turned to mud and I sunk down to my chin.

Passel

Slept deep and dreamt of a secret journey. Doesn't know why. Need to escape? Feeling like feelings have to be suppressed. Again. Doubts. Again. "You asked me once to tell you all the stupid little things." Maybe there are too many. Sobs hidden by the shower. Things look different--better?--in the morning anyway. Thirteen day countdown to forgetting. Stopgaps, all. Light at the end of the tunnel, but what's on the other side?

Addlepated

She began to wonder if she was simply going mad. Her mind felt as weak as her body, so it made sense that her heart would too. How many days can a person forge ahead this way? How much can we take? Senseless, uncomprehending, like a beast, or maybe a machine, but even those break down. Little by little, maybe I said too much. Maybe I jump to conclusions. Maybe I should look before I leap.

Chugalug

I'd rather collect your words and your kisses than anything else in this world. Like folded paper stars in a clear glass bottle, the color of your affection brightens my every day. Sometimes I have to interpret your silence, and the effort tires me, the necessity saddens. But then there are those raucous rowdy outbursts, expressions of what I mean to you. These I swallow like sticky condensed milk, greedily savoring the unique taste of mutual satisfaction. I try not to ask for too much, but for me there's no such thing.

Steep

Need a break, beat pulsing, brain racing. Everything goes in but so little funnels out. Wrong angle, too steep, too narrow. Ignoring faces I know to focus on the worlds I create. Never was a numbers person, and now they're driving me mad, louder than the voice in my head, louder than my creativity. I'm already two and a half weeks ahead of myself. Can't catch up to the future.

Diluvial

Body as the earth, rivers pouring out, pain and sorrow and joy. All the seasons, all the reasons, turning and changing with the revolutions, the passing of days and times, good and bad. When quakes erupt from within, the skins stretches and the organs shift and the soul has to make a choice: heal, or lay down and let the darkness win. Drowning in the haunting, grainy, black and white "remember," with only tiny pores to release the bitter poison of injustice. Every step forward is an ordinary miracle. Something to be overlooked, taken for granted, repeated but never forgotten. Pink tongue like fruit, fine hairs like the grass, and only the mountains to rise.

Wheatstone bridge

Oil marks on her arms. Seared forever, her mistakes. She remembers them with fondness. Pocks like missing pieces. The days she'll never get back. Everyone says it's time. She's the only one who isn't sure. She can't ignore the unknowns in her head. What if? Sometimes it isn't about the sound, or the taste, or the gun in your hand. She knows. The bullet's already gone.

Belle époque

She wrote down the names of all the places she had been. Six hundred and seventy-one different ways to spell happiness. But everything shines under the sun. So she buried them in the earth and cried over each of the graves. Only one rached up out of the dirty, only one grew and blossomed and bore fruit. Then she knew which was her true home, and her real soul would find its way back.

Wallflower

Quiet words, silent on my tongue for so many years, slip off into this gentle honest night. Like ships disembarking onto unknown waters, they float into your silence and sail across the darkness between us. There is more that I long to share, more that I harbor in the slips of my pier, but they will wait for other tides. Not all can be revealed before sunrise. The moon means her light to cast a broad glow, a general sweep shine of truth, an accompaniment to the stars. The rest must go before the rays of the sun to determine their integrity, to compare their intensity to the ultimate night.

Natter

In Discovery, someone is always talking. In the afternoon it's the kids letting out of school. In the evening, the adults getting off work. At night, the old folks rocking on porches. In the wee hours of morning, the teenagers again, gossiping or trading words of love over the phone. At sunrise, the birds. Always there is discussion in Discovery. Today, Cristina just happens to be the main topic.

Élan

Triumphant hips claiming glorious home. Smoother than ink from this pen. Cool exterior melts and sticks. No room for doubt amidst the roomful of cards crowded with handwritten words read a hundred times a day. Moans become a mantra. The happiest day loses meaning in the context of a million happy moments, each one a lifetime complete.

Iridescent

Growing ever-glowing never-knowing locked up love. Can you take it make me break it always shake it on the floor. Heat it beat it cheat it when your feet start meeting up. Brand new state without much fate just like you wanted ain't it great?

Marquetry

Wartime sins are not so simple. Intricate layers of reasoning and rationale. Lay them out one by one. Execute. They fall in a row. Walk upon the foundation before you. Ignore the squish of blood below your feet. This is how we walk to peace. This is the only road once we've begun.

Fission

We cleave together unlike the angry tides that push people farther from their shores. Losing all the air that keeps us afloat and dreaming of silky hair that tickles your naked chest. Drying here the droplets running down our legs. Sand sticks to our soles. Cloudless heavens draining slowly. Eradicate my sins.

Fresco

She picks up the brush. She can't remember what for. She can't feel anything underneath this skin, these bones, this barely beating heart. They're as false to her as the oil and horsehair and canvas. It used to be the other way, the paint used to be real like the flesh. But nothing breathes anymore. Nothing lives. She puts down the brush. Maybe tomorrow, she tells herself. Maybe tomorrow she'll exist again.

Mise en scène

Dark black hand pushing pieces on a board. Pull a card with a question mark. "Follow your gut out to the west." Handsome little songbird with a cozy little nest. This is the stage no one knew had been set. This is where I perform.

Banausic

Wake up in the morning, kiss on the cheek. Brush teeth, brush skin. Bathrobe, seeing off, hug in the doorway. Sunlight shimmering into the room. Music, dancing, cheerful nothingness. Waiting patiently, waiting anxiously, day slipping away into return to night. Welcome home, quick celebration. Dinner, to refuel. Another lowkey evening, television and friends. Shower, pajamas, or something sexier. Fold into each other's arms. Sleep, to dream, but what for when reality's just so damn good. Nothing mechanical about this routine. This is where life is.

Subterfuge

"I'm watching you," he whispers in my ear. "For him." We both know it isn't true. But as the rain falls onto the nylon of my umbrella, I contemplate the possibilities. Hours and miles, days and dreams. Loving deception, and the last thing I would ever expect. I fell for this last time, though, and I know better now. So I smile and we walk and I fall asleep with the knowledge that it isn't real. Not yet, anyway.

Lambaste

bombs underfoot
explosions in the distance
you know it's only a matter of
time
before you unravel

garbled voice over the life-
line
and i'm pulling
like teeth
running tongue
over my own
tasting the sweetness of my recent memories
and my future plans

tears and raised voices
won't solve this dilemma
because you want it
but you don't
and that's ok

"mm hmm"
is the only salve i have

time
tasting
you

Hootenanny

Avoidance. Certain words become too soft and familiar on my tongue. Catch them like snowflakes and melt away.

Scandal. Performance. Audience. This is who I am to me. Ever-watching eyes. I want to show you something sensual that you think isn't within. Would you ever guess the kinds of thoughts that are painted with the cream-colored passion I've had on my fingers? Do you know the fear I feel when I imagine your eyes on my lines? But what does any of that matter? An acrobat high up on her bar. Catch me when I fall. I'd rather work without the net.

Celestial sphere

This was the day I was meant to be. Could it have made a difference? Ten more 24-hours in this universe, ten more 24-hours sharing this world with you. Would it have changed me? Would we still fit so intimiately?

Bourgeoisie

Lips sealed, don't wanna impede on the silence the better man say he need. Read about all the lower man deed, never understand why he ain't been seed. Got a heart that want love so bad it's like a disease, cain't hardly breathe, gotta hide beneath these sheets. But then the sun rise and it's on with my smiling teeth. Don't nobody want to know what's going on in me.

Discomfit

She trembles in the warm breeze, her toes lined up with the edge of the shingles. You don't know what to say, but she's waiting for your voice. Her eyes are closed and her hands are held out and she needs to know where you are so she can jump. Leaves crunch beneath your polished black shoes, but she can't hear it over the roar of the wind in her ears. You've got to make some noise. You've got to speak up.

Felicific

Here I stalk images with verbal arrowheads, ready to spear them through the virtual forest. Blood runs thick and black, the flesh slender but filling. The chase and the hunt put a smile on my spirit, but I have yet to make the big kill. My heart rumbles like a storm over the gulf, waiting to burst.

Root beer

Float away, champagne bubbles, sacrifices like little flicks of the tongue across your skin. Can't exhume the year I killed, and the bell stopped ringing anyway. Just want to revel in the triviality of the stars. Bury me in a windy city that blows goosebumps onto my arms, shuffles me into your bed. I'll live on as your private angel and keep you safe from harm.

Hobson's choice

Skin like the ink that dribbles out from my pen, but darker, richer, more like earth and less like beach. You are free now, free to choose your shade of future. I know mine, in my heart, and I take it, embrace it in full. Like me, this one is really two. Like me, this one knows. There is no alternative. This is how it must be.

Noisette

Vulnerability. Like being cut open, served for dinner, served raw. The taste of my words on your tongue. Too bland, he says. Does the filet cry the way I do? Tears squeeze out and pool with flavored juices in the subtle groove of the plate. This is the final resting place.

Legator

to you i leave.

i'd be ok with being alone
if i could be alone with you.

Lesotho

Stranger in the land of my fathers. Does that ring true all along this crystal coastline? Do children see through the thin plate of glass that separates them from each other? Do they hear the two gunshots in the night and wonder what world might be safe for them? I don't know this place anymore, and the home I long for leaves me listless.

Scurrilous

She was never so bold as the day she told him off. She said, I can't take this anymore. She said, You are worse than any whore. She said, You make me cry with your fool-around ways, and you make me dread my live-alone days. She took her things and walked down the road. She paused at the corner, then turned and never looked back.

Divulge

Secret weight to my eyelids as I revel in the moist sensation. Can't speak without pleasure seeping out in every breath. You find shame in my life, and I can't carry the weight of your judgment any longer. Shake off your shackles and leave myself free to shudder. Do you understand that your way isn't the only one?

Magician

She tiptoes onto the stage, her little feet encased in tar black Mary Janes. The pitter patter of her steps echo softly around the now-empty auditorium. Her curly pigtails shake around her full baby face.

She's looking for the rabbit. He was soft and big-eyed in the magician's hands, and she wants to play with him. She searches the table where the pretty blonde lady with ripe red lips had been sawed in half. she peeks into the crystal chamber where the magician had drowned himself yet lived. She ruffles the thick stage curtains and a cloud of dust puffs into the air. The rabbit is nowhere to be found.

Then she spies the big black top hat. It's sitting on a stool in the wings, quiet and unassuming. She bolts for it. Eyes wide and heart eager, she reaches inside. Nothing! She pulls it down, turns it over, shakes it. It's just an empty hat. Disappointed, she puts it back and walks away. Her parents are waiting. They'd told her there was no such thing as magic.

Just as she's leaving the theater, long white ears peek out over the brim of the hat. The girl happens to pause. She's tempted to look back. She wants to believe. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She makes her decision.

When she rejoins her parents in the lobby, they ask her if her journey has satisfied her curiosity. She nods. They each take one of her hands and lead her out into the cold night. She breathes out, and the air in front of her puffs like the dust from the curtain. She knows it's not magic, but she smiles all the same.

Aberrant

I can read the signs like I used to read my homemade runes: death this way comes, but this time I won't cry. I'm tired of your pushes and your pulls. I'm tired of tumbling for you. The grass is never greener; you just see it brown and shriveled anyway. So take your dressed up memories and your talking heads and leave me be. I don't need half a person weighing on me like an elephant. There's nothing in this room anymore.

Envenom

Every time I try to hide the venom it sticks like sap to the soft flaky bark of my soft flaky heart. And I get caught. I don't know what to do. I say, Please, feel free to ignore the parts of me that make you uncomfortable. And then I turn cold as the granite floors of a masoleum.

Ragout

You drink my words like hearty beef stew, but I receive the heartening benefits. I cannot overstate the profundity of your support on my soul and my smile. If we walked a hundred miles I would never tire with you by my side. You fuel my spirit and give me strength to fly, even though I have no wings. All the world is mine when I'm with you. In return, all of me is yours.

Bengal

I want to be that stalking feline, sexual and strong. I want to hunt down my own survival. I want to inspire fear and awe with my growl. I want to purr when I am content. Black and orange flash, fashionable, I wear like warning of my spirit, passionate and powerful. Weaned on wildness, I walk without shoes across the entire earth. They will call me fierce, and only you will know how true.

Helical

Slipper snakes, two, entwined, enlove, enjoy, the slithering feel of cool scales sliding over one another. Sensual sensation, slowly sneaking, snugly snitting into place, faces, ensnared en one another. There are sneaky ways of saying snail-like slumbering mumbles that will ensure ennocence. So eloquently enderstood entails enmagination.

Anti

There's nothing you can say to convince me, nothing that can change my mind and make me okay with the way you want to leave. It's a brutal thing to beg for someone's forgiveness for the end. But I'm not the girl people think I am, and I'm not the one I want to be, so I'll string together these senseless words and see what else will come.

Homolosine projection

Distortions are inevitable when you try to oversimplify, try to flatten the curves. Everyone is three-dimensional, so when they're put into words, how can justice be done? I look at the way I look at people, and I wonder when my eyesight got to be so bad. Suddenly it seems like everything's so dim, but maybe my pupils just haven't adjusted yet. I step into the elevator and push the button for the top floor. I'm determined to go up.

Mores

I hardly dare to venture into the twisted pathways of your mind. I fear getting lost, or worse, starting to agree. I don't want to know the way you work, I don't want to share your views. The rooted tree need not fly like the bird out of his nest. I am steady here, with the river running around me, giving me nourishment. You, you can take to the air by yourself. There is nothing but a fall below you.

Penguin

If you were mine, she used to say, everything would be different. I would smile each day, and I wouldn't hurt myself. You wouldn't have to give up a thing, and isn't that all you're really afraid of? But secrets don't stay kept frozen in the ice. When the sun comes out, the water melts, and your hands flow over my body like rivulets running down. Maybe that's all I am to you. Maybe that's all I was ever going to be.

Nook

Don't tell me I've read your priorities wrong, because we'll both know it's a lie. You've shoved me into this little nook with your old books and teddy bears. I can sit here quietly until you return, but the dust will gather and I may forget how to be all the things you want from me. As long as we're both aware of that probability, everything proceeds fairly from here.

Idem

Words on repeat like saved voicemails I used to listen to. Press a few buttons and I can pretend you never left. But the truth is that you never came, were never here with me at all. It was all a long, vivid, elaborate dream I had, and when I woke I wanted to believe. I see some of my friends sleeping like that now too. I don't know what to do for them, but maybe that's what I was meant to learn from you.

Ratables

They say a man is worth more than what he owns, but tell that to the guy with no shoes. His bare feet tread over hot asphalt and broken glass, they slip on your garbage, and they tiptoe around your property. He eats your leftover leftovers, and he drinks the rain from your gutter. The city overlooks him until he gets in their way. He waits for nothing because he'll never get his day.

Freshet

Tired. Need more. Don't know what. I am like stagnant salt awaiting a rush of fresh water. Like a stagnant dream waiting for sweet, quiet sleep.

Cansada. Necesito más. No sé qué. Soy como la sal estancada que espera para el agua fresco. Como el sueño estancado que espera para el descanso dulce y quieto.

Pricket

Candle wax dripping down the stem. Slow and sensual journey. Eres mi sueño. Eres mi amor. Whispered words in another language, but only in my head. Haunting echoes of another place. I forget that the forums here are the same, even if the snow chills my veins. Get off the Metro car, walk up the steps, and out into the summer sun. Madrid, eres mío. Me encanta, Madrid.

Lava

Eruption of hot red things on your skin, heat you up, work you up, feel you up. Can you sense the burn? Steam rising and that's not the only thing. Blood boiling because that's what you do to me. Soft as lace, feathery touch, miss you nights, dream all day long. Like lava, you melt me.

Duracell

Ask her what lasts forever and she'll tell you misery. Tell her to smile and she'll get it upside down. There isn't way to show the silver lining to a girl who's voluntarily colorblind. I'm letting go of that hand now. It's been weighing me down too long.

runcinate

cut your teeth on this, why don't you: i'm not ready for that yet. the world seems to be pushing me in a certain direction, and i've dug my heels in the ground, folded my arms, put my best pout on. it's all wrong and i'm the only one who seems to know. got so many ways to go-- why should i settle for what's already known? i'd rather walk right up to the edge of that cliff, take a deep breath, get blown by the wind. this is the adventure i've been waiting for. this is the freedom i've dreamed about. this is the shape of things to come.

crest

got this mark on my chest to show you who i am. it's a family thing, y'know? how many moles on my soft white skin? maybe you should count to find out. it's something i've always wondered myself, something i've always dreamed about. haven't been able to make it come true yet, but baby, you're promising. have i ever told you that? well, it's the truth. something scares me when i'm with you. something inside myself.

bedlam

it's a madhouse here in this place without. i miss. i love. everything reminds me of. are in every story. the scent of. the taste of. the way i look at. lying against. listening to. talking to. sleeping with. everything is in. are in me. i need. thank.

gyre

la giralda. half a world away. holding hands as they scale the almost endless ramp. holding breaths after they reach the top and look out over the city. seville. beautiful, hot. the dirty guadalquivir, but still a river with bridges and that special air that only comes from being skimmed over the surface of the water. the park, and the ferris wheel, and the sweat, and the dust. spinning slowly in their dreams. someplace to return.

old spice

signs of another time and place. fake marble floors, tile-lined sinks, crinkled wallpaper. she's seven years old, sitting on her father's bathroom counter, looking at herself in the mirror. will i be beautiful? she asks her reflection. will i be successful? she looks at the bottles of pills, the mouthwash, the stick of old spice with its familiar red label. she doesn't know that that's the world she is inheriting. she doesn't understand the normality, the precious normality of regular life. instead she dreams of camera flashes and red carpets and limosines. all these things she hears about and thinks that she will need.

niveous

cream-colored petals drift slowly down to earth. lingering on her fingertips, the trace of your skin. she closes her eyes to listen to you breathe. she inhales your scent with the cold, snow-laden air. this is not the death that everyone laments. this is the rebirth of an angel at your feet. this is the way innocence is regained. this is the new life and the promise she sees behind your eyelashes.

Hanuman

mischievous little god, monkeying around. in her hair, between her thighs, got her wound up every way. chirping, peeping, grinning, winking, got her wound up every day. she thinks about him as she falls asleep, she thinks about him as she wakes. he whispers jokes into her ear and then he runs away. it's not a cruel love he's selling her, he's just not meant to stay.

Ivory

something pure and white, never to be recovered. tough as nails, but that's not quite tough enough. she cries softly and i don't even offer my shoulder. not until it's too late. but all i want to do is protect her. all i want is the best. i try to smile and spread some cheer, but the red hot fangs burn my mouth and all that comes out is smoke and fire. i've been there before, and i know that's not how it's supposed to be. i want her to come to the other side with me. but i guess i have to be patient and wait for her to see. for herself. that's the only way it can be.

Signalize

A life made remarkable not by its accomplishment but by its depth of feeling and thought. Can you be unknown and still a hero? Maybe the people most worthwhile aren't the ones we hear about on TV or read about in the papers. Maybe it's not enough to sell yourself; maybe you have to have substance too. I look in the mirror and it's not my reflection that I see. It's hers. It's theirs. I know what they want me to be, and it's not even all that I'm capable of. I will not let them, or anyone down. Not even myself.

Cheer

Smile on his face at the end of the day. Knowing he won't have to wait forever. Patience is the hardest thing to keep in perspective. Bed made, bathroom cluttered. This home is lived in, this love is shared. The warm smell of food, the sound of a Christmas tune. Not quite everything, yet, but enough for now. Enough for a smile on his face at the end of the day.

Trowel

Digging holes into the dirt. Gotta find what I'm looking for. Buried treasure: a heart, a kiss. Three words in either language. Don't mind getting a little dirty to get what I want. Plant a few seeds, see what springs up. Patience was never my strongest suit, but I'm learning, I'm trying, and so far my efforts have been rewarded.

Rialto

A night out on the town, glittering lights, painted lips, shining eyes. We race over the rain-slicked streets, cobbled stones, horse-drawn carriages passing by. My heels click, and your jacket flaps in the wind. My hair and your skin smell so good. My laugh ignites from your fire. My stomach melts away. This is every dream I've ever had. You make fantasies come true.

Gnosis

They say there's so much we don't know, but we already know that. Can't they see we're following our stars? Maybe we won't get by on gut alone, but there's a lot to be said for intuition. That voice in the wind directs me which way to turn, and my heart obeys without hesitation. This is the knowledge that I think counts. This is the wisdom my spirit holds.

Pepto bismol

Childhood memory of pink bottle by the sink. Small bathroom. Smiling faces in the fogged up mirror. We are happy now, here, frozen in this time. Nothing unsettling about a memory enclosed in a bubble. This is the way people protect the past, and protect themselves from it. This is the thick syrup that takes away pain. Clean it up and serve it cold. Best way to grow old.

Olay

Skin like clay, mold it beneath your hands, melt it in the kiln of your mouth, smooth it with your tongue. Rough taste, rough texture. Smell the raw art that breathes for you. Take it in. Pleasure and pain meld as one and moan each other's names.

Ludic

Some people dream only with eyes closed. The better play is to let the world be your fantasy and to take part, take charge, make change. Every day is an opportunity. Every smile is gold. Some people dream only with eyes closed, and some people don't need to dream at all.

Uxorial

Duty-bound. Shackled 'round her small bare ankles. Not everything is so literal. Her slavery isn't on paper. Her master doesn't wield a whip. (Unless they're in the bedroom.) His face is those of all men who came before -- he looks just like his father. Her face is bland, and her eyes are wide and tearful, like all the victims who came before. This sacred institution is a sham. There's no democracy here. 100 years later, the story will be different, but these fields, those walls, will never forget what they saw.

Quay

She stands on the end of the pier and looks out over the dried up seabed. The wind pulls at her hair and scratches at her face, but she takes it, she doesn't flinch, she doesn't turn away. Tears sting her already swollen eyes. She does not blink. They fall, drop by drop, rolling down her cheek, as she stares off in a sorrowful stupor. For days and days she stays there, waiting, hoping. But no one comes. Finally she is jolted awake by a rush of water washing over her toes. She looks down, then back up at the seabed. It is no longer dry. It is overflowing.

Realizing what has happened, she wipes her eyes and turns and walks away. She is done here.

Dolce

She walked home in the dark. Only her feet were bare, but she felt totally naked. The full moon shone high overhead, and the stars glistened in the sky like the tears in her eyes. She tried to keep her chin up, but she was cold and tired and scared, and she shivered with the wind.

What she really wanted was to be safe in the arms of someone she loved. She wanted to hear sweet, soft words of reassurance whispered into her ear. She wanted gentle kisses to cover her skin and make her warm once again.

Instead she walked home in the dark, feeling naked and alone.

Always

In circles there is no beginning and no end; only an edge. With a sphere, there isn't even that. This is how I think of time. Always, we have been. Always, we will be. Always the world and the stars and the water and the skies. Always the ash and the trees. Always the stamp of your lips on my skin, and always the puff of cold breath in the air. Always the peal of children's laughter, and always the tears of a broken heart. Nothing comes or goes; things only move along the infinite paths of the surface of the orb. Back and forth, but never beginning or end. Only always.

Secret

I cannot think of what to say. There's nothing you don't know. All the things I thought I could never speak, you've already heard. My mind is empty, my words are free. I'm trying to learn from those around me. I want to hold myself to the light and see right through. I want to carry my past and my head up high. Holding your hand, I feel capable of anything.

Sweet gum

The sweet gum trace laced taste of your mouth lingering fingering tingling down to the bone hard strong nothing wrong with feeling the pulse hum come drumbeat sounding pounding skin slide in against and all the rest just fades away. Let it fade away.

Animatic

There is no dry run for this, no first try, no practice test. Everything is go, go, go, and every instinct is no, no, no. Play it safe, play it cool, but maybe you just gotta dive into the pool. Not everything's gonna work out your way, but you have to trust that it's all for the best.

Obtund

The black and white turns to vivid hues and the sun soaks up my past life's blues. This is the time that will set me free. These are the days I will never lose, never forget. These soft smiles and these warm nights. I don't need to say maybe tomorrow anymore, because I'm living today.

Cover girl

She stares at her reflection and wonders, Will it ever be? Blonde hair, blue eyes, long legs, full lips? Her dreams are drawn by the loins of other men, and yet she dreams them all the same. She doesn't yet know that her pencil hips and her tabletop chest will grow on their own, that her body will take its predetermined shape, that someday someone will love her--truly love her--not for looking like the cover of a magazine, but for being three-dimensional, curvy, real. These truths are all still hidden from her young and eager eyes. So she bats her lashes and blows kisses at the mirror, practicing for the nonexistent fool's fantasy that she'll gladly never lead.

Patroclinous

Can we rise above the sins we inherit? Are we doomed to repeat the same mistakes? We aren't always more than the sum of our parts, no matter how hard we try. But maybe that's why he fascinates her: he's the egg, the invisible man. He dropped down from the sky and was embraced by the earth and the sea. She is persephone, deeply rooted like a tree. The two met, and they kissed, and now they share stolen glances and fingertips. They're hanging in, hanging on to each other. Maybe that's how they'll overcome.

Polyhistor

He was a wizard, of sorts. A snake-charmer, and she was a python. He knew all the right words to say, all the right moves to make, all the right chances to take. Kept her on edge so she never caught his drift. But there was nothing to back up his Don Juan bravado. All breadth but no depth. The shallow end of a kiddie pool. He amounted to nothing more than a phony sideshow gypsy, telling her everything she wanted to hear, then leaving her to move on to the next town.

Variegate

I try to keep things interesting, to be different, to change myself up every now and then. I am not white, or yellow, or blue, or green. Not always, anyway. I am a chameleon, a kitten, a stallion, a dodo. I reinvent my age and my name and my dreams. I don't want to be pigeon-holed, I don't want to get stuck. I'm more of a homebody than I care to admit, but my bohemian spirit roams free everywhere. The only thing I know for sure is that I only know a given moment of myself. I am ephemeral. That is permanent.

Ripsnorter

I like to sugarcoat people. I make all sorts of excuses for them. I smile and nod, I grin and bear, I let them get me, wear me, tear me. Does that make me good, or strong, or patient? Maybe. But maybe it just makes me a fool. Sometimes I lean more to one side or the other, but after nights like this, I can't help wanting to stop. Wanting to drop these deadweights that burden my soul, that make me not whole, that borrow and never return. Even as I write those words, though, I konw they are slanted. Like peeking through blinds, I take in the sun, and I know tomorrow they'll be open again.

Hypotenuse

Who is which: right angle or hypotenuse? Free spirit, or square? Maybe this is a more fluid shape; maybe these roles are shared. The rise and fall of soft hemispheres; the growth of an obelisk. The fitting of peg into hole; child's play, nature's game. I am not ashamed of anything. I just want you near.

Exorbitance

Her love is exorbitance. Her foolish hope is sin. The stars taken what she gaveth away: her hidden dreams, her unspoken motives, her innocence. She holds now sympathy, but no respect, like clay to mold while the sand slipped through her fingers. This cannot keep her warm at night, nor protect her from her fright. So she drops her chin and sobs for more. Unfortunately, she must wait. That is her penance.

Leviathan

Engulfed. Overwhelmed. Leviathan in the water. Tidal waves carrying foam across the body, onto the shore. Everything returns to this. Symbols coding the future. Words in another language dictating how to live. Heed not them, but your own inner voice. Kill the beast. Set yourself free.

Millstone

She can shoulder her own weight. She can take them all on, and she does. She believes in the nothing that envelops her when she sleeps. She can't remember anything before this grey could. Her bones are crumbling beneath the burden she doesn't realize she builds each and every day from her own grief and denial. Her flesh is evaporating away with her tears. Her spirit has flown, but it wants to come home. What can be done? Only time will tell.

Era

The end. The beginning. No one ever talks about the middle. The settling. The rush you get even when there's nothing new and nothing old. I call it the Golden Age. The time when I know what I've got and I feel invincible. Secure. Hopeful. Realistic. Not jaded, but not so jumpy that I can't get ahold of myself. There's something beautiful about the sun at high noon, even though everyone seems to be holding their breath for dawn and dusk. Well me, I'm breathing in and out.

Charming

They say he's the best, but she knows better. She sees through the lies and the smiles and the charming words. She isn't fooled, but she is drawn. Like lines on a page, smudges underneath the artist's finger, she blurs. Her judgment falters like a Monet upon close inspection: mistaken colors, loss of form, a sense of madness. Head and heart are never in sync, and she's sure that that's a bad thing. But what's a girl to do when she's young and never made this misstep before? She's gotta fall. And fall she did.

Omnibus

Long train running down the tracks. The girl gets fire in her eyes. She watches it approach, evaluates its speed. The engine passes her and she breaks into a run. Her skinny legs race over the thick wild grass, her long hair flies behind her. The next car has an opening, and she's going to take it. One, two, three, JUMP! And she's on board. Breathing hard, she looks out over the land and wonders where she'll end up. Wherever it is, she knows it won't be nearly as exhilarating as the journey.

Dawn

How you make me sing. To think of the sun rising over our bed, our skin, our kiss. To remember the warmth of your breath on my neck. To long for the feel of your legs tangled with mine. Once more. Twice more. Every day for as long as we both can take it. That's what I want to wake up to.

Cascade

Emotion comes cascading out, over the cliff, crashing below as you watch it all go. It's in my nature. I am a mountain. You are the wind. What does it say that I've done my best to follow you? Picked up all my weight, all my burdens, and ran, trailed you here, as far as I can. Now you've turned and we stand face to face. Nervously my feelings fall out of place, spilling over the ledge and down at your feet. You pick yourself up so as not to trample them. I tell you not to bother. The truth is, I don't want you to tiptoe around me. I just want you to immerse.

Hie

I fly, hie, high from this place, lie to your face, die in your grace. Can't stop to cry, gotta keep up the pace. Pretending not to be shy, wearing red silk and lace. Don't wanna be too dry to try, yearn to make your pulse race. Changing our minds is part of the chase, not a misplaced disgrace, so don't buy the sky, I don't need a reason why, I just love you. That's safe enough for me.

Renascent

When everyone else has fallen, she will rise again. This is how she moves, how she lives. She finds her strength when others are weak, so that she may breathe quietly when they roar and rumble. She doesn't long for the limelight, she doesn't hope for gratitude. She only wishes to be at peace with the world around her. The rest do and be what they may, she needs only one thing. She can hold it, she can reach for it. She doesn't have to have it, as long as it exists. That's just who she is.

petrify

trapped in this golden goo, solid as a rock, but living no more. i don't want to be those people, those fossils, those failures. i think about eternal sunshine, ephemeral moonlight, and everything in between, and i know we can do it. we care too much not to. i don't know why i get so afraid. "if you love it, let it go." i'll let you go, then, and i trust that you will come back to me when you're ready. just like i trusted you to see all of me, and to keep my secrets to yourself.

moquette

the scene. the soft thick carpet underneath my skin. i look left and i see the ground. i look up and i see you. i hear you. i feel you. i know you. i know only you. i can't think. we're in the clouds. we're in a pool. we're on the beach. we're exactly where the tide meets the shore. i don't know how to say this anymore. i'm in heaven, but are you here with me? i don't want to be alone.

bounty

endless. my feelings like an ocean. so much to offer, yet so much turmoil. can't seem to settle no matter how much i try. can't just be, because the wind and the pressure set upon me, stir me up. what if i surrender? what if i just give in? i don't know which way this will take me, but i hope it's closer to you.

zest

something stings me, and i look to see. tears burn in my eyes, because it's me. i set off the chain of events, i dripped into the pond, and now the ripples are carrying me farther and farther out, further and further away. i don't know how to fix it. i don't know what to do. i'm lost in a past i thought was forgiven. i'm afraid of a future without... i dare not say.

open-hearth

forged in fire. put a piece of metal through an oven and it comes out stronger. is that what we all are? people. we think of ourselves as so fragile sometimes, so easily bent and broken and twisted and darkened. but the truth, i think, is that we are made of steel. we can withstand so much. we take ourselves for granted, and yet we don't give ourselves enough credit. i can take this, and so can you. and we'll be better for it in the end. that is what i believe.

kismet

this to me is one of the most beautiful words in all the english language. maybe it's not even english, originally. but listen to it. think about it. feel it in your heart and in your soul. it rolls off the tongue and into the ear. it sings of destiny, and yet there's something so real, so solid about it. like you can touch it. you can direct it. you can hold it in your hand; it's yours. yours, and maybe mine too.

Pamper

She sits on her throne without knowing why she's there. What has she done to deserve such riches? How was she chosen for this exalted position? She has never been treated so royally. Like a treasure, like a goddess. Eyes wide, bewildered, enchanted. Overwhelmed. She starts to cry, but it's a good thing. Her tears drip with supreme joy. She never wants to leave, and really, who would? Eyes wet, she raises her face to the sky and whispers, with all her heart, Thank you. Thank you for all these things I'm not sure I deserve. Thank you so much.

Papillote

Smoke rising. Sugar melted sticky sweet on my tongue. On your lips. On our hips. This is where the crevices meet, the air whooshes out, the eyes close and then open wide. This is where I know I'm safe. Light or dark, I can't even comprehend. Awareness fleeting, fleeing, out the door. Outside world can't enter here. Only you. Now, tonight, this moment, it's only you.

Girder

Cities with water running through them always get me. The bridges, the boats, the banks, the breeze. The way the land splits without taking sides. The way the beautiful scenes slip in and out of view. The way I can trace the clouds in my mind, like the topography of your face, the skin spread out over bones, so fine, so strong. My fingers know no other sense. My heart knows no other beat. I live in you already. I'm lost in you, and happy that way.

Shampoo

I sang her song -- I'm gonna wash that man right outta my hair -- but it didn't really work. And thank God for that. Look at where we stand now. Under the stars, under the covers, under the same stream of water, stealing soap from each other's bodies. These are the things they've done but cannot understand. These are the things she forgot to remember, because she's afraid of losing. Losing me, losing control, losing herself. But that's okay. Because I won't forget. I'll keep it for us both.

Florilegium

How do I explain my desire, my dreams, my ambition, and still justify my lack of tangible action? I set the stage but I have yet to write the play. I have the patrons, but nothing to show. The theater will only stay open for so long. It's time to break my leg.

Obovate

We are trying to be faithful to ourselves, to the versions of our persons that we see. I've carried my heart's wishes to the extreme of abandon. She's following me to the ledge. I'm that sticky sweet drop of dew, clinging to the stem. She's the tear that's falling down, but maybe she'll land in the sea.

Couchant

This is almost too easy. (Look it up.) Do you remember how proud you were when I asked if it was something you'd want to try? A simple idea, an extension of present games, not so cooly sweet as the trick you pulled out of the freezer, but an unaided sort of magic, anyway. Hopefully we'll both enjoy it. That's the object of our play.

Herky-jerky

The tremor starts at the center and works its way out. Down to tingle the toes. Up to fry the brain. It's an explosion. It's a chaos contained, harnessed, held into a single point of contact, all heat and humidity, all pleasure and pressure and play. It's fleeting, fleshy, freshly discovered appetite. It's intriguing, arousing, mouthing all over the skin. It's the race, the racing beat, the beating drums that sound as one. It's the best dance I've ever known. It's the only one I couldn't live without.

Sumpter

You drive me. You make me want to be a better person. You inspire me to succeed. All these things exist within me already, but you spark an intensity, a fireball branding force that takes me over day after day, night after night. I can feel my pulse stampeding through my veins as you ignite me past every limit I think I have. I feed off my own passion, but I live inside your faith in me.

Apartment

Maybe I'm more afraid now than ever. Like a fruit cut open, my core is exposed. What if you don't like the taste? There is so much darkness in this world, and you are my lantern. The flame has flickered once or twice before, but I've stood my ground, kept whole by faith, and waited for the storm to pass. If you went out for good, I... I don't know what I'd do. I prefer not to think of such pitch black.

Nauseous

Cure for the quake in the quivering folds of an internal hold, bickering tricks morph as sickening truths come to light, shine in the lackluster blockbuster life of a child, child among children, not innocent but young. This is where we play, lay, stay, stray, pray, may. This is the origin. I am ready to leave.

Eidetic

Your words are like your tongue: they send me reeling back into the breathless, tangled, sweaty nights that stay with me like candy-coated fog. I breathe you in when I'm not thinking clearly, nearly choke on the scent of your skin. Stretching upward, outward, I beg of you; stretching outward, inward, you supply. This give-and-take sustains my blood, heats it to a bubbling boil; only you can make me spill.

Clandestine

Two clandestine histories. One unearthed. The disparate ends wave in the wind like tails of a ribbon, searching for release. The clipped wing bird crashes as she attempts to fly, but her sister's flight makes her believe. Every star in the night twinkles in her teary eye; the cool moon will not listen to her pleas. But she can regain her strength, and some day she will soar, for that is what birds are meant to do.

Efficacious

Truth is what we make it, and for all my suspicious shades of green, I can only hear what she says and only know what she does. Anything else is make-believe, and my imagination is everything but fair. The most effective metamorphosis is the one I don't need to fake. So I'll take it all at face value and hope to be amazed.

Experiment

Is this just some sick experiment you've set up for yourself? You know I don't believe it when you go, but sometimes even my faith can be stirred. I want to be here, want to be her, and I think you want that too. Maybe we both get tired sometimes. Maybe I'll just slip underneath these waves for a while. Let me know when it's safe to resurface. Then you can taste the salt of the sea on my lips, and we'll forget these currents currents ever pulled at us.

Aerenchyma

Porous, my imagination likes to take the spaces between and fill them all with you. Propellers defy gravity like the pull of their misperceptions, and our discretion leaves me vulnerable to the smiles of a happy ghost. The wind whispers in my ear that the future's getting near, but I hush her up and close my eyes and continue on my way.

Jetsam

Spiraling into shame of the past, but it all seems so trivial now. Can you taste the excitement on my tongue as I slip it into your mouth? We smile at our explicit secrets, even knowing that everyone's got some of their own. What we keep in our basements doesn't need to be so dark. I prefer to jettison those skeletons into the fog.

Flotsam

I used to think of myself as what remained at the end of the day, the stuff boys collected to occupy their time until the next Christmas or birthday. No one told me that in so many words, but my bruises and the non-looks in their ees spoke loudly enough. Now, though, I am mostly healed, and you, your gaze penetrates me, and I lie here, open to you, no longer the discarded junk, but the brand new toy.

Stadium

She stands alone in the middle of the field. Every seat in the house is empty, but one. All lights are on her, and though they are bright, she smiles. She cannot see him, but she knows he is there. He has orchestrated this dream-come-true night; he has made her the star. Nervously, she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, waiting for him to come down. But he just watches for a while, mesmerized. He will go to her, of course, but for now, he wants to enjoy the view.

Apostate

She spent years denying herself, and now her soul is bruised. The scabs will heal, but she can never forget the stop signs she ignored. The whistle sounds in her mind whenever ghosts come near, and the sound deafens her heart. She cannot bear to believe again, but she's trying anyway.

Impasse

There is no way but this, for me. No one understands, but one day she will see. I mean my freedom to be a homage to her. She raised a little tiger, no clipped wing swan lives here. When we go to cross the river, she will look to me, and I will roar and dive in. She will not look me in the eye, but she will let me go. And when, someday, I can return for her, and carry her to the other side, I know that she will forgive me, because she feels me too much in her heart.

Bamboo

The mainland song seeps red into my mouth and I am fed on the purest of cultural pride and tradition. Oceans cannot break the bonds of ancestral slavery. Static on the line is no deterrent to the enforcement of norms or the employment of tactics of tension. For the same reasons that the princess cannot bear the weight of the island's crown on her head, her sister's son will inherit the earth, with all other sons. But I have just as much warrior in my blood as they, and you will know it with your own spirit when you are defeated.

Malinger

She carries all her weight in the back of her mind and hides the fang-like teeth that wait for opportunity. Do I trust her to work hard to achieve my goals? Not a chance. Her ends are hers alone, and yet she manipulates us to her means. True that at times we occasionally line up, but it's quite the dance even then. I try to keep up, but exhaustion creeps upon me, and I fear what will happen when I go.

Resplendent

The figure of a woman, in the distance, silhouetted. Behind her, the sun is resplendent, glowing with a purity, a brilliance unknown to man. This is Hope, the child of the Universe, the first and last daughter in his heart. She carries the weight of the world on her back, but she keeps a smile on her flawless face. She is not always kind, but she is real. She does not always speak with the tongue of angels, but her voice is strong and steady. She inspires trust, and she leaves no man behind, though he may abandon her.

Express

There are certain things I cannot measure with numbers or express in words, certain feelings and instincts that have led me to this place, this time. I hold them in the palm of my hand as my bare feet tremble across the grass, each step nearing me to a dark but beautiful unknown that I have faith in without seeing. Dew drops kiss the soles of my feet, and all the fears I have ever known leak out of my body and trail behind me like a train. When I wake up, I will not know what has been revealed, but I will follow my heart toward it, and I know that I will be okay.

Oman

When the streets are wet, the colors slip into the gutters and everyone laments. Why does it seem like I am the only one who loves a good storm? Part of what makes the sun shine so bright is knowing that grey is just around the corner. Sometimes I stand at the corner of the peninsula just to feel the gulf rage around me.

Languid

I take deep breaths to settle the storm in my stomach. I lie in bed for hours, mocking sleep, which is mocking me. I tell myself this can all disappear, like the scarf into the thumb, the rabbit into the hat. But in truth, even that takes work. So I guess what I'm saying is, inspite of everything, or maybe because of it, I still think of us as magic.

Valet

I park my ass right where I think I want to, and I don't back down. Sometimes. Other times I can't help driving after you, wanting to follow you to the ends of the earth, just for a chance that you'll listen. The rain is falling and thank god it is because that sound, that soothing rhythm, is the only thing keeping me sane right now. The sky cries so that I don't have to. The sky cries with me. I know it'll all feel different in the morning, I just wish it weren't so hard to understand. I wish a conflict hadn't created itself from nothing. I wish the unbelievable happiness I felt all evening hadn't melted away for a non-existent discord, an illusion of perspectives that could be so easily clarified if I had ten more minutes. Tomorrow offers itself, and I will take it. Hopefully then you will see that you are you and I am me and we never stopped working just fine.

Intramural

The boundaries of my blood sink me down below the horizon where your eyelashes rest against your skin, and when your eyes flutter open, I can't help but be startled. You are so uncovered, and I am so obscured, and for years I thought it was the other way around. You put your fingers to my pulse, but I am counting aloud, and our beats do not match up. It scares me to think, much less admit, that you might know me better than I know myself. But the truth is, maybe you do.

Lanuginous

Polar bear hair is translucent, yet it looks white from far away. That's a misunderstanding, isn't it? Like the words we speak but don't really understand. Like the things I mean but can't find a way to say correctly. Like the meanings I want you to take away from this, the truth of what I feel. You don't need to compromise yourself for me; that isn't what I'm asking. In fact, I didn't ask anything at all. I was just trying to give an honest answer. But something didn't click, and now you've gone, and I'm left here trying to solve the problem on my own.

Hobbledehoy

We are like two adolescents at a dance. We eye each other, smile shyly, then look away. We do not tell each other what we want, even though we both think we know. Instead we circle, frustratingly coy, absurdly over-considerate, uncomfortably aware of one another's intentions, and wait for another chance.

Vorlage

He cut her out, cut her down, brought her to her knees and left her there. It's not fair. No is always more powerful than yes, and yet it cannot bring any success. Heart leans forward to gain speed; Head says, Who, slow down, I need room to breathe. Well while you breathe she sits and cries, and that's your fault, you lived her lies.

Siamese fighting fish

I called her Rainbow before I even knew what that meant, when playtime and bubble baths fell like snow on my head and I believed that that was all there would ever be. Your name, even then, must have been known to me, in some quiet secret far off place reserved for serendipity. So when you ask me to go, don't forget the way I kiss, because I've held your heart as delicately as I could since the age of three.

Skosh

There is a small part of her that wonders. Sparkling eyes and a charming smile. How much harm could it possibly do? The innocence we create has been proven false time and time again, so perhaps there is nothing now to fear. Maybe he thinks the same, and maybe you do too. The truth is, I give my imagination some leeway because my heart has already locked in place.

Quadriga

I am not impressed by your arrogance or your idealism. I am intimidated by your power and your discretion. I have nothing to prove, but I have to prove that to you. I am the horse, you are the carriage, and my future rides us both. So let us go slowly, and let me have hope.

Batophobia

What is he afraid of? The greatness of love? I see in him what I saw in you, only he may succeed where you failed, and fail where you succeeded. There are always going to be reasons, unfortunately, because reason occupies all the spaces in our heads that our hearts don't want. Emotion knows no fear, though, and that is why I trust it more.

Xenogenesis

You sat there and laughed with me. How can I forget? The betrayal she claimed, I denied, because I thought you were better than that. Now I see, though, that you're more like the rest. Well, at least I've got who I need. At least I've got the best.

Yagi

On my roof, I watch the sky float by, weave in and out of the antenna lines, slip gracefully above the trees. I know the truth now, and I'm trying to reconcile it with what I used to believe. I'm hiding up here because my world turned a little bit upside down last night, and it's my best friend's fault, and there's nothing I can do.

Roux

Temptation rises like bread in an oven, hot and delicious. I want to eat, but I am afraid. I won't often admit that, but if you listen carefully, you'll hear my whisper now. There are so few chances in life, and my passions fly so quickly I fear I'll miss them all. I'm at the table with my knife and fork in hand, but the plate in front of me is empty.

Dodecagon

How many sides to this story? How many angles to examine, absorb, and understand? How many tales to hear? How many paths to walk and shoes to try? How many hearts to break and spirits to bend? How many lies to see through? How many secrets to ignore? How many pains to pretend don't exist? How many chances to give?

Paean

One half of me wants to rage. To scream in the face of the blind one and hope that she finally sees. To shout to the heavens that this is not fair and I am tired. This half shares no sympathetic tear, no understanding hand. This half hears hate and returns it. This half is too proud. But for better or for worse, the other half is in charge.

Upraise

He lifts her up, sky high. He shares her joy and carries her burden. When she wades through sorrow, he holds her hand and follows her along the shore. He will not just let her go adrift. He will not abandon her as the others often do. He will kiss her and soothe her hair and touch her and hold her. And he will let her do the same to him. And that will be enough.

Exceptionable

You direct my attention, and I act out the excitement like an award-winning actress. No one knows the trouble I've seen, nor do they applaud the trouble I've averted. But I will never call out my own name, because that is not the way of the sunshine people. We do not argue with modesty imposed. We do not look you in the eye. You do not understand, but we do not care. We are who we are, and we will not change for you.

Tuffet

What is truly in my heart frightens me sometimes. I don't even know it all, because I'm too afraid to see the goblins that lurk in the recesses. I'm not proud of their existence, their lowly throne in the dark, so I hide their faces behind my own. The facade has won so far.

Wonky

He speaks in the feeble tongue of someone who cares too much. He's gone, and we all know it. I tell myself it's not her fault, but I'm not sure I have conviction. I remember how often he used to laugh and the fun we used to have. I squint at the past, bright as the sun, and I can't help wishing for it to rise again.

Aesthete

She looks in the mirror and isn't satisfied with what she sees. There are seven hundred little fairies dancing in her head, with perfect teeth and perfect hair and eyes that shine like gold. She watches as they flutter by and cries that she can't join. Flightless, fearless, and a hidden sorrow, she dreams of knowing faith in self so that she might soar as well.

Sessile

You are the flow of fire over the wax, the flicker of flame that burns below the skyline. You are strong and steady, but you do not need a home. You make a stand, and you defy the angry breath of dissenters. They lie in wait, and you smile and wave. This is not a battle they will win, because this is not a battle you will fight.

Rejuvenate

You fix me up, you tie me down. You make me forget that I don't want to be me. You share the bird's eye view. I take your hand and go anywhere, because your invitation is sincere. Bad memories fade given time and affection. Good memories spring up in their place. Youth is not everlasting, but somehow I know this is.

Habitué

You look me up and down, taking inventory of your goods. I come so frequently now that it's no effort at all to move. You know the rhythm of my walk, my journey. I trust that I will find my way.

Nugatory

Afterwards, they lie in bed and just breathe. They are spent. They are sweat. The air hugs close the sour scent. The pair takes no notice. Eyes closed, they separate, they drift. They stop inhabiting each other and start the trek to their own worlds. This is how it should be. This is a beautiful night.

Oubliette

Carry me. Carry me. Carry me. I sit here waiting for someone to carry me. I am afraid for it is dark. I am cold for there is no air. I am tired for I cannot sleep. And I need hope for it has fled. Carry me, carry me, carry me. Out of this cell and into the light. Carry me, and I will carry you.

Zander

Take a leap of faith with me and hold your breath; I promise you will live. At the end of the day, flying high only gets you so far. Who are you going to share all that treasure with? I don't want to build sandcastles too close to the shore, but I assure you the water's warm. The fish nip softly at our salty skin, but I can't feel a thing except your hand.

Newel

He is my rock, my heart, my breath of fresh air. He is the reason, the question, the answer. He is not better or worse or the same. He is not a crutch, a bad habit, or a sin. He is a scar, healed. He is a tear, dried. He is exactly what I want and need, because he is him and I am me.

Dentate

We share our fingertips like crumbs of bread. The mistakes bleed with the color of passion, and the teeth of my eyes are eager for their meal. Piping hot and full of fury for not listening, for obeying fear, I hand over my confidence with a wistful sigh and wait for you to steal it back from the demons in the sky.

Yakitori

We keep on taking these little nibbling bites, eyeing the feast warily. Sometimes I tire of the wait. Sometime I want to devour it, to gorge, to truly let loose and go overboard. Right now I could eat all day. Right now there is no thought, no desire, no drive other than the flavor.

Inalterable

There's a tattoo on the inside of her left ankle. That cannot be changed. Though she has exchanged her angry black past for the acceptable pastels of the people-friendly world, reality keeps its hold on her skin. That mark, that brand, that Chinese symbol for "power," tells the heavens that this kitten is not as she seems. A lion's cub, she cuts her teeth in private. She acts tame, but her wild streak will always live on.

Reprieve

This place is my home, my sanctuary, my reprieve. But the purity has been split and now the pool of safety leaks outward and away. The calamity of wanting to be and needing not to shakes the earth beneath my feet. The violent airs, stirred by time's unforgiving hand, bluster in my face. I push back my hair and take a deep breath. I'm going into the eye of the storm.

Jodhpurs

Reflected in his eyes is the heat of riding a thoroughbred to the finish line, the nobility of a prince who loves his people, and the diamond shine of wide eyes focused on the sky. You can't help watching because he commands your attention, your respect, your affection. The soldier who never holds a gun. The doctor who always heals your wound. He is the one, and you will see, and you will believe. He can defy the world.

Habdalah

Closed, cold. Divided, divisive. These are the things we are, we eat, we fill our mouths and hearts with the vile practices learned from too much distance and an overdose of fear. What if there is no remedy? What if we cannot cure? We'll simmer until we boil over and spill and burn and bubble away. Is that what we want? Is that all we can be?

Monadnock

No man is an island, but this woman has had her days. Sh started out as a small but spectacular little volcano, erupting with passion and life. She built up a home around herself, and there she thrived. Over the years, many a storm or even ocean wave has tried to wear her down, but she stood her ground, stubborn and proud. She did not wash away. Now her love affair is with the wind, because though he is different, he understands. He does not try to change her. He simply moves around her, caresses her, allows her to be. He is perfect in his airy ways.

Artiodactyl

You ask to know the things inside my heart. Don't you recognize yourself? Your smile fills every corner of my being and wraps me in a warmth more vibrant than the sun. I feel joy just thinking of you. We are two beasts, two separate creatures, but we met, and now sometimes we breathe as one. I cannot explain. I cannot express. You rob me of words, even while you inspire them.

Lucre

The best days of our lives are fast slipping through our fingers, it feels like. Lucrative nights followed by undying ambitions sail on the golden wings of our youth. So what happens when our hairs turn grey and our hearing quiets and our vision blurs? What happens when we turn to rust? The oil can is not infinite, but the clock will never stop.

Gelato

We smiled as we took each other's hands and ran across the plaza to the little shop on the corner. Our stomachs were in our eyes and our noses to the window as we scanned the flavors for the one we wanted most. How could we choose when everything looked so good? In the end we selected on impulse and cheerfully exchanged our money for our cones. Then, licking our gelato, we walked to the river for a pleasant chat and stroll.

Hubbub

You lost your tongue in the tumult of the firsts, the rowdy waves that crash over us in crazy, unbounded rushes, unceasing, unabashed, and overwhelming. I take it upon me to watch out for you, to clutch your life preserver at the ready. But you don't want or need me there. You're capable, and adamantly so.

Fraktur

She likes to keep things simple. She doesn't mess with frills. She finds strengths and works with them, plays them up to her advantage. The line blurs between fact and fiction when she looks back on her past, but in her heart she knows the truth is closer to her side than theirs. After all, who knows better, the spirit or the letter? For sure, she believes in ghosts.

Mucro

I had to draw a diagram to explain to myself my own ideas. The spark was there, but small and dull, and that worries me to know. We're talking about contagious behaviors and I can't even catch on to what's going on in my own head. There's a fuzz, a cloud, a foggy haze, encircling my fortress. Nothing's new, yet I still feel green. I think the world stopped turning.

Hay

Somebody popped this bubble, and the only thought that's running through my head is "Goddamnit." I don't want to go. I know this had to happen, and I know it's gonna be fine, but sometimes I just can't help wanting. Wanting too much, perhaps. Wanting a life I can write myself. But like that bunny in the cage, happily chewing on its hay, I've had my day and now it's time to work to earn what I've got. Fortune favors the bold, as I have seen, and the patient, as I am going to prove.

Altered

Filtration of words through smiling faces and overprotective cotton in the ears and mind causes more problems than it solves. There are so many times I want to lie and hide but I know that there is no point. You'll see through my altered state of honesty to the me I'm afraid to show. Instead I bare all and see what happens, because with you there's no reason to fear.

Waived

You take your time, measure your words, and then pour them very carefully into the mold. I, on the other hand, am brash and brazen and move forward without thinking. There are many different ways to approach life, but I've always thought of myself as decently successful. Until recently. As of late, I've had to question myself, had to question the way I do things, the results I get. I'm beginning to think all my rights have been waived: that easy kind of friendship is now off-limits.

Favored

Every little washed up ragdoll's got something to say, but maybe this isn't the time or place. Sometimes it feels like no one respects privacy anymore, like no one understands the need for some emotional distance. I'm sorry I don't do things the way you do, or the way your mother does, or the way your mother's mother did. Not everyone's heritage can be so favored by your eagle eyes. If you've had enough, then just walk away. I can take care of myself just fine.

Interest

Waiting for you to show the signs, waiting for your end of the deal. Trying not to make too much fuss, trying not to let out a sigh. Maybe she's right. Maybe they're all wrong. Maybe I should stop listening to the voices on the radio as well as the voice in my head. No one seems to know what they're talking about, but everybody takes an interest. Everybody but one.

Neoimpressionism

I always want the best. I remember being so upset when Monet went to someone else and I got stuck with Seurat. Who had ever heard of this guy? But I did my project and I got an A and now, over a decade later, I know how to make the most of almost any situation. I'm a sunny-side-up, silver-lining kind of person. Because I always want the best, I always see the best of what I have. There are worse ways to live.

Spur gear

Two rivers flow their separate courses for miles and miles, then one day they meet. one hides in the forest, while the other keeps on coursing right out in the open field. Eventually the shy one gets brave, trickles timidly out to join the other. For many more miles, they run together, gaining strength and speed in their union. Then one day they reach the ocean. They look at each other, unsure of what to do: continue on together, or jump in and get lost in the masses. Give up on a smooth, harmonious partnership, or fight the current. The gears are turning in the world around them, but they are still deciding. This is something that cannot be rushed.

Antechoir

She calls it preaching to the choir. Says she's sitting front row center and she knows exactly how I feel. But she's not only in the front, she's in the antechoir, the front of the front, first in line like always, best view, brightest smile. It's not a spite, merely a fact: she doesn't know how I feel. She has no idea, and how could she? Because while the back of my thighs stick to the cheap plastic chairs, she's sitting on plush velvet cushions, fat with the softest stuffing.

Debenture

I always feel better after talking with you. My head clears out and the corners of my mouth lift up. My heart does cartwheels in my chest. It'd be too simple to say that I owe you a lot, and too unfair not to say anything at all. So take this IOU in the form of a kiss and we'll work out the change later.

Muliebrity

Part of what I am is broken. Not my favorite part, but a fairly essential one nonetheless. My definition bleeds, and I'm not sure what I mean. It's all an artful way of saying I might be sick, of admitting I'm a little bit afraid. What can be done? I don't yet know. I'm told I should--must--find out. I do have a tendency to ask questions I don't really want the answers to, but so far with this I've kept my mouth shut. I'm not sure what it will take to get me to open up.

Boudin

Here in the French city, people sizzle. The sun hangs high overhead and preys on weary travelers. The language floats like living art from tongue to ear, but I cannot catch the meaning. It's like a Jackson Pollack painting. From street to park to museum we wander. We stop and gawk inside the sacred heart. The magic I expected isn't here, where trash rolls down the street and drunk boys vomit in Metro cars, but then again, I expected that too.

Entremets

When he brought out the third dish, she wondered whether it was the last. She felt like she'd been eating forever, and she couldn't tell if she was full. But everything tasted so good, and if she kept going, there might even be dessert. Are a few more bites really going to hurt? Is the chance worth the risk? Food is just food, unless it's food.

Fortissimo

Do you know what people do when they're afraid of not being heard? They get louder. They raise their voices up so loud that the gods in their heavens frown in annoyance. They scream and shout and make a scene, just to be sure they haven't been lost or forgotten or ignored. They are terrified of melting into the snowy abyss of everyday static in which we live. But if they have nothing to say, why should I listen?

Involute

I think I must be an old soul. There is almost nothing that doesn't interest me, almost no culture that doesn't strike me as familiar in soem way. My eyes are plain, but perhaps that is because they are lit with a thousand views, a million fates. My voice can be both strong and meek, both hard and gentle, both calm and violent. Perhaps the tongues of all my past selves speak through me still. Perhaps when you meet me, really you are meeting a pirate and a princess and an artist and a magician, a thief and a nurse and a blacksmith and a cop. All rolled into one, but none quite melded together. There is no natural state, only a constant curling, a continuous addition of spices into the mix. I am spiritual soup. I am still simmering.

Sanity

I didn't want to say what they were feeling inside because it tumbled right out onto the street that day, and the car you were driving, well, its wheels never stopped, and it was like slow-motion, only really sickeningly fast, and I just want to keep my sanity because it took so long to get it back. Is that really so wrong?

Curandero

I need someone to send me the cure for this disease that makes me not like myself. I admit I have a problem; now where's the help? I want to lose this outer shell self, this person who has tied herself to my ankles and drags me around like her shadow. I am the light, the bright, the one who ought to thrive. She is the darkness that I cram into a nook and try to conceal like that old memory, that shame you try to forget. But they bring it out in me, and I let them. I'm struggling to forgive myself, and struggling to fix myself.

Opaque

Publicity eats at me like a worm to the core of my apple-sweet stickiness and I hate when people can see straight through to my innermost secrets. There's a difference between being opaque and being invisible. I'm only comfortable when I can see without being seen. So when you whisper in my ear that you know everything, I feel a crawling fear and I don't know how to hide. Only when you make me feel safe do I forget the way I am.

Opacifier

One half ni hao, one half muy bien, somehow all-American. I embrace myself, all one-hundred-fifteen-ish pound, all flaws, all blemishes, all scars. The breeze cools what this violent sun burns, as I turn various shades of okay. My eyes gaze upward as my heart leaps ahead and my body stumbles in the wake. I've asked, in the past, for things to be made clear, but the truth is that there's always enough time for a good story to unfold on its own.

Sanative

Milk tea in a Spanish room, fusion is the boy's buzzword. We tell stories and laugh, the four smiling faces, loosely tied like a child's shoelaces. I regret the jokes at others' expenses because I was taught better than that. It's too easy to lose my center, my principles, even here in this beauty, here on this journey to find myself. The sun presses the liquid out of my body like juice from some homegrown fruit. It feels natural to me to be in this country, this land that heals, this place I've never, and always, known.

Lamasery, epigeal and de novo

It's a simple principle: do what you know you should, ideal world or not. No excuses, just the best you can manage. If everyone followed suit, what a beautiful place this could be. No need for fear or censorship, no means for hate. A clean slate, the start of paradise. It begins with a seed in the mind, a growth near the surface, until you believe it, breathe it, live it, breed it. Love and innocence. Ideals for a dreamer.

Haimish and series circuit

When she dreams, the world breathes in technicolor, a vivid breeze beneath the wings of a butterfly. She's drawn to him like she's drawn to paintings of the sea; they call to her as past lives waiting to be remembered. Daily events spark and cool, welding present to past, revealing new lights and facets unknown. Nothing settles easily, and nothing smells like home. Rather, the burning incense carries her to a faraway land that dances back and forth to a beat all its own. She hums the tune without even knowing, and everyone stares as she walks down the street.

Davit

The shoreline marred by these long-necked creatures, these progressively more aggressive angels of Progress. The way we fly, on their backs, their wings. Like the scent of hot tea in my nose, tinting my mind with its particular flavor of awareness. You take every opportunity to remind me of the gulf between us. I'm afraid to ask you for the company car. Maybe the voice on the other line is right: I'm silly and too young and too eager to try. But it's my life, my path to lose, and I'll be damned if a map's as fun as an adventure.

Lagniappe and jovial

The two little boys know all the right answers. They know what they're here for. Make her smile, get a prize. Some sort of sweet, something to rot your teeth, your brain, your heart. At this young an age, the damage is harmless, but fragile youth sings the stories of many a careless practice. I watch them without saying a word; like animals at the zoo, they watch me back. So precious still, so innocent. I pat each one on the head. Have another, I say. At this age, how can you deny?

Abscond

There's a smile I hide in my heart right next to where you lie sleeping in the sunlight, a lazy day I cannot bear to take away. Your breathing sounds like the ocean, and your heartbeat is the breeze in my hair. I whisper four words into your ear, but you remain silent and still, like the secrets of the past that I carry in the pit of my stomach. Your sticky lips do not answer my question. For now, though, I can wait. There's no rush yet, as my spirit hovers above this whole world and carries me from home to home. Someday I will know, someday I'll be real.

Chortle

I cannot smile I cannot laugh I cannot breathe I cannot think. I cannot rest and I cannot weep. I cannot stay yet I cannot leave. I cannot explain, I cannot erase. I cannot wait, but I cannot stop. I cannot heal, and I wish I did not feel. Maybe I already know the solution. Or maybe the easy way out is too appealing. I can't keep dragging this in my direction. Not all by myself.

Countersink

A voice in the darkness telling me to beware. I pretend I don't hear it, pretend I don't understand, but the truth is, I know all too well. The past has taught me, but like everyone else I carry my scars far beneath the surface. Those holes have been covered, nailed shut, like coffins. I'm past the mourning. Now I live for the day.

Reverberatory

Maybe I'm the moth and you're the flame. Maybe I'm the butterfly's less acclaimed cousin who longs to experience her same glory and spirit. Your light beckons me, entices me with its glow. The heat is a rush, like the one I imagine she feels as she's chased through a field, gliding effortlessly on the wave of a breeze. Maybe I'm just a little jealous, in theory, and maybe for that I'm willing, and deserving, to perish in your fire.

Cineaste and consensus

She speaks and I read the subtitles, but you are a silent film and I cannot comprehend what's happening. I want to lose myself in your story, but I don't know how. The general opinion is that the casting is top-notch, but the final prodcut has received mixed reviews. So I'm sitting in the dark, trying to keep an open mind while images flicker on the screen in front of me, trying everything I can. I guess I won't know how I feel until the movie ends.

Fasciculus

In the night she curls up and sleeps on her side. One hand rests under the pillow, the other on top by her lips. Warm breath washes over the soft thin skin of her fingers. her brown eyes close slowly, lids heavy with the weight of the day. Her mind lingers on thoughts of him and carries that love to its dreams.

Amplitude

The swing of the pendulum, back, then forth. Amplitude. Breadth. Energy. Force. What are these things in relation to choice, indecision, emotion, aspirations? How do you stop what's been set in motion? How do you work to comprehend the laws of physics, the invisible strings that Nature tugs to create its little show? Maybe it's not about answers. Maybe we're just along for the ride, the slow steady swing of the pendulum.

Gurney

My resolve has been laid to rest, and my security and sanity with it. Dead on arrival, maybe even before that. Maybe from the moment our lips first touched, from the moment I thought of that number with that article in front of it, even though my concept of time has been worked and reworked and reworked again. The pretensions fall apart at the seams I so poorly stitched, and what's revealed, what lies beneath, is the soft underbelly I hide even from myself. What now, she asks me. What now?

Cosecant

Things get so complicated when you look at them from the wrong angle, the wrong direction. You think you're headed east when really you never left at all. You think you're so big and strong, because the giants in your life always told you so, but now you're out in the ocean and the water's above your head. Now change your perspective, open up your mind. Maybe instead of swimming up, you should dive instead. You could explore the depths, the nooks, the crannies. Who knows what treasure you might find.

Fastidious and percolate

There's a mystery lingering in the air, but I won't ask him for the story. This isn't my curtain to draw back, this isn't my play to direct. So I'll let them lie, let them hide behind that screen. For now, they could probably use the rest. Goodness only knows what's in store for them when the flock returns. Birds of a feather stick together, and maybe that's why we've all been shifting slowly apart, quaking like tectonic plates.

Gormandize

She feeds off the tones and timbres she knows so well. They fill her to greater satisfaction than all the delicacies she treats herself to, all the tangible distractions that cannot satisfy her elusive hunger. She grasps the phone like a starving man would a fork, just before lunging across the table for thirds. But this table is an ocean, and this is not the meal. Just a snack, a taste to tide her over. The feast will come in time, but never soon enough.

Prestige

Can the stem sing the praises of the petals that make the flower shine as a thing of beauty? Can the pupil give accolades to the iris, the colorful halo that encircles its dark center? Can the muddy riverbanks show somehow their appreciation for the cool strong waters that give them shape, give them life, help make them what they are? Pride and appreciation radiate from all these quiet things. They exist without words, but not without feeling. Sometimes I am a quiet thing too.

Knockabout

Emptiness in my stomach, rumbling like the sea. A little dinghy knocked around, crumbling like me. We map out voyages by candlelight, because the blinding darkness swells. We sing each other stories to give notice of where we are. I want to feel your fingers stroke me, guide me home. I want to feel you fill me, make me whole once more.

Inept and machicolate

I know that I am small but strong, but do I sometimes ask for a bigger weight than I care to bear? I'm beginning to think that the answer is yes, and that my fortress isn't meant to stand up against such a beating. There's no time like today for making changes, but sometimes I forget to remember to start.

Plein air and hypnosis

My heart breaks under the pressure of a stranger's fatal habit. The smoky café signals to me a harder end. But the waiter's blurry language makes me smile despite myself, and I struggle to comprehend the insignificance of last night's dream. This is Ávila, with its walls that once kept people out but now serve as the main attraction. This is the place where the church bells toll at the boy market for fifteen minutes straight. This is the place where I look out over the land and think of nothing. This is the place where I lie at night and decide that if I could go home to you right now, I would.

Voluminous

My mind is like a river overflowing its banks. The future is the stormcloud overhead. The road before me is long and wide, and I fear getting lost in its expanse. But the sun shines bright, a star to follow, and I am secure in the warmth of a smile.

Hoary

When she closes her eyes, she sees his face. It is just as young and fresh and handsome as the day she realized she loved him. Though they both have grown, apart and together, she does not think he has changed a bit. She still adores him, he still makes her smile, still makes her heart beat fast. And when she opens her eyes in the morning and sees him lying next to her, she reaches over and strokes his face, his hoary hair, and she thanks her lucky stars.

Epistaxis

Take one for the team and don't let nobody see. If you're quiet, they won't even notice. Because you scream, and they just look the other way. It's like you're not even breathing. Not even inhabiting the skin and bones and heart that stands in the path ahead of them. They don't want to go forward anyway. They're just watching each other out of the corners of their eyes.

Bellicose and yin

There are two parts to every soul: fire and water, or earth and wind. They are each other's enemies and best friends at the same time. They both battle and balance. They need not be extreme; a candle is as much a flame as a wildfire, a pond as much liquid as an ocean. A stone is as much the land as a mountain, a breeze as much the air as a tornado. Each need only seek out its counterpart to create harmony. Then all the world is right, at least for that one soul.

Chachka and gingerly

She smiled at the old woman's kindness. The little doll was ugly and strange, but the consideration of the gift sparkled like the sun on the ocean. "Thank you," she said with sincerity and a smile. "It's lovely."

Acerbate and smorgasboard

She sees a crumb, she picks it up. She seens another, picks it up. She's stooped over the floor, following this pathetic trail, and she can't even tell that she's not standing. She can't look up, so she thinks the sky is made of cement. She believes that ants are birds, and rugs are clouds, and she deserves better than that. But how do you make her stand? How do you make her see?

Hypertension

The little boy isn't real. She knows that, she knows this is just a dream. But the warmth of his skin and the light in his eyes make her want to believe. Can't she suspend reality for just a few hours? Can't this be her truth? What harm would be done? She just needs to alleviate the pain in her heart. Even if only for a night, she needs some relief. So she allows herself the lie to soothe her soul. Does that make her a fool?

Papeterie and guardant

You're looking at me in this way that makes me unsure whether or not you really see me. Your body's turned like you're ready to go, but your eyes are fixed on mine. I'd ask you what you want, but that's such a pointless question. A writer knows best the limits of language and words; these are things that cannot be expressed.

Sibilate and coalesce

The river slides past, hissing over rocks and turning corners, hidden by the night. A sinister mist creeps in and covers the narrow path. She waits for him in a grove at the end of the river, at the edge of the forest, but he cannot come to her. He cannot find his way to meet her. She may never know his true intentions, his true affections -- and what a shame -- unless he thinks to keep trying.

Sideling

Everything inside his house slants to one side. You can't tell from the outside, but if you make it to the front door, or even the porch, and look in, you can see the haphazard way in which he lives. One thing leaning against the other; all are waiting for the slightest tremor to fall. Room after room has been destroyed by the careless misstep of a visitor or guest. Soon there will be none left. I have not stopped by in quite a while. I'll admit I no longer care to.

Ingénue

He watches her walk down the street, music in her ears, shade over her eyes. She carries on, oblivious to the magnificent world around her. She smiles as if that gesture were enough to welcome her into the folds. The old man just shakes his head. Perhaps she owns the summer, but it would be a shame if she never knew it.

Microcephaly

They used to call her a freak. Poorly made doll, head so small and full of air. She used to dance, because she couldn't hear their jeers. Then she grew old, and the silence of her golden years melted into the shrieking screams of a woman neglected. They'd played around with her all these years, and only now did she feel the stings. There she goes, wandering the streets, begging for a change.

Jolly Roger, mishmash and Archimedean screw

Held hostage by memories. Rubbing lotion onto smooth skin. Visiting sites of ancient technologies that are perhaps more marvlous than those of moden times. Breathing in smog and leaving out details. Stories, footsteps, glances, palabras. Todo en motion. Nada por sure. Not sure where your voice is coming from next. Only longing to hear it.

Belles-letres and ennui

There used to be a passion in this small maiden form who used to long for worlds afar and dream of people she'd meet and be but now she finds herself alone and though not necessarily lonely, she doesn't quite know what to do with this new emotion, this new doubt, this new welling up of needs and instincts that contradict all the ones she's known before. She isn't unhappy, she doesn't have regrets. She just isn't the same person she used to be before. Her pen goes to paper and pours out different words, different ideas than the ones she thought she had. Could it be that she is changing more than the places around her?

Impend and ristra

It's coming, and she can feel it. That phantom sensation. That marriage of souls, which she hasn't truly known in a little over three years. The ring still sits on her finger, the image in her mind, the love in her heart. But he's gone. They're gone. She's here, alone, in the pantry, searching for something to fill the emptiness. The physical, the rumbling in her stomach, she can satisfy. But the deeper pain, there's no cure for that. Nothing in this world, anyway.

Smutch, gimcrack and Antarctic Circle

There's a stain on every memory she carries in her heart, but the trick is that they're all in her blindspot. She doesn't see a single thing that doesn't agree with her glorified visions of the past or the future. The present is the only time she cannot deny, rewrite, repress, or delete. This limitation floats her farther every day, down the icy rivers, toward a frozenness she might never escape. I try to melt the chill with my smile, but she doesn't buy it. She doesn't trust me. She doesn't feel my warmth.

Coaming and peruse

I'm trying to stick to it, to the mandate she set for me, the goals they have for me, the ambitions I carry all on my own. I feel the urge, the hunger. I seek the light. There are only so many ships on which I can sail, only so many seas to explore. And yet... possibilities feel infinite. So I'm trying to peruse these maps, to find the brightest star and get there. I feel like I have to go alone, and yet I already feel lonely. I guess the first thing to pack is my strength.

Homocercal, orison and floruit

We are cut from the same cloth, and I know that the ties that bind have already been broken once or twice, but still I can't help this feeling. This hope, this prayer, this sinking in my chest cancels them out and I sit here quietly holding my breath, waiting for it all to subside. This is our time, our golden chance, and I've savored every second of it. There are no regrets, no moments I'd take back or trade or rewrite. The only thing I'd wish for is the chance to live it again, whenever I chose.

Hircine, hymeneal and rémoulade

The young girl smiles and it breaks your heart to know that smile will never come again. Never that very quirk of the lip, that dimple in her cheek. Another, perhaps, and similar, but never the same. She will slowly succumb to the world's sorrowful news; it will follow her and gnaw at her sleeve like a kid goat that doesn't know any better. She'll live that way, with few reprieves, until she weds her dreams to reality. Then she'll be a dutiful wife, serving hors d'oeuvres and making small talk, and always looking wistfully back.

Frenum and caballero

I desire a swift, fast ride on a strong, steady horse, whose nature I trust and whose name I chose. We'll start at dawn and elect a still-green path; our prints will be the first left on that land. Trailblazers, that's what we'll be, leaving smoke and ashes in our wake. Then, when we reach the end of our road -- and who knows where that will be -- I will let my horse go on its way while I sit and watch the sun set. I will not limit or control it. I believe in free spirits.

Mashie

Things that I don't know: golf, quantum physics, the future. Things I don't think about: golf, and quantum physics. The days get shorter as the time slips silently by, but when I'm lying there beside you, listening as you breathe in and breathe out, watching as you blink in your sleep, everything freezes. I wish I could preserve it, that moment, those feelings. But I can't. Only in my mind, my memory, my precious memories of you. The truth is, I don't worry anymore. I just take it, the ebb and the flow, the come and the go. The waves feel like little kisses upon my skin.