herckle

I know the fruit are sweeter after a cold morning on the grass- I know how to breathe, and how my feet walk through your mind. I know you are the boy dressed in the big bear suit; I am the mountain fox And we smile sweet through the clearing, you from your wooden house, me from the flowers And after I eat, I leave the small bones in shapes that give reason to your guesses. I have dreamt of how you might talk, and of him who I have never seen, beneath your dead coat; I have been to the forrest giant, to learn how to speak, but he sleeps and I am sure he will never wake. And so the moon will continue to visit and change; The cle

How you believe what I am saying in a way that you wish you had been the one to say it How fresh you taste, like you have just this moment grown in to this so soft and sweet That empty place, the one you told me was in you, the sadness of your nonchalance How high and low and cold and forgotten I would go to reach what sleeps there To kiss it long and neat on it's waking mouth and see the day start new

1. i held the past in my hands and it was a lake which formed between my fingers, only a passing through of precious faces and the ground as tires pushed the pieces apart 2. i held on to the hem of your sun dress and it was full of whispers from the daily sun, light-fade patches lying flat like sleeping bodies and my closing eyes, my breath drawn in 3. i held fast to the thistle plant and it was an anchor on the hillside, the flesh beneath my skin; a thousand crawling ants and the sweat on my brow spelling fear to the shells below 4. i held on to my certainty and it was a bright lantern half-below the surface, like wild e

Underneath the hill folds, amidst the sea of many homes, was everyone, and all of the things they called their own. And there were my feet, one following the other. And there was everything unclear, for in this sea of homes, we were all under water from the start. It happened every night. When the sky became all black and cavernously whole, the streetlamps spoke to me. They beckoned me forward, on and on, soft arms of light holding my eyes like the earth that grounds the tree root. And there was the gentleness of light, lifting my brow and heart and breath. They spoke to me as window frames do the room, in infantile conversation. It was neve

will somebody place the big picture in front of me so i can grasp something again so i can understand unwind stop swimming through these seas of screaming i am far from all of you now and i do not know who you are cannot remember cannot forget what we have made and what we have broken down cannot forget where i am, what i have seen what will never change i am hiding in this cage and in my mind i am swimming, swimming cannot stop, will not stop see you lift your head at the shoreline but it is too late in my mind, i am swimming, swimming

one splinter of glass in a foot one person mending, hands full of birdkiss one hot cup forgotten, one spoon handle dissolved one grass shoot lain, one body sunken flat one mind full of sky, perception straining one seabird dancing fast one time raised full amidst the expanses one push of breath in to the pillow pile one string caught and the blanket unravelling one other underneath, one piece sleeping as the rest wait for the excavation to begin

are my hands still here? they are now cups, they are now two vessels, holding ink, hating it, holding floods are my hands still here? i think i can see them on the kitchen floor with the crumbs and unwashed cloths lying silent and flat are my hands still here? they are not mine anymore but everyones building castles on a beach holiday building swings out of broken rope where are my hands? i think they are in my mind i do not think they are real i think they are in my mind picking quietly through the mess i have made

i walked to where you were where you had been waiting, patiently watching from the hot patio outside your front door i turned the handle and let myself inside of your chest dense forest and heavy sigh walked up in to my old space and breathed in shut my eyes fell in to a sea of your hands on to the fresh linen and solid walls the daylight laughing at all of this revelation playfully basking behind the curtain let the old sensation in, hot oil tumbling over the surfaces inside of me, feather sprout on the inside of my lungs, promise fluttering from all directions, over and over and buried beneath you tried so hard to take somethin

it started between each bunnytail gathered together, between each large rolling cloud we are not the wind but the space through which it runs and i am a lioness a carving a big kick of his shoe in to the side of her face i am the colours in which you dip your fabrics i am the plasticine of your face and the articulation of your sentence i am the new craze, the old flame, every meaningful phrase from which you have sucked the meaning, every meaningful phrase, overplayed, overplayed, overplayed again, til all is just snow tumble and everyone is too numb to see i am the wardrobe you have perfected your thin, stretching limbs the