~Sprawwl
Raynar Thul
Newest
The things I must rememberI stackThe things I must remember
neatly on a small glass table by my front door
jacket keys face
(the face I stole
from my father).
I forgot my jacket
once
when I came back
the door opening
like a coffin lid
it squatted crumpled like a puppy left behind by its legs.
by ~Sprawwl
PrometheusI. Birth in CadencePrometheus
1. The unending scraping –
Shavings helix down to hardwood, glean sawdust between furrows that make questions of
eyes. Splinters of mistletoe pierce calluses, puddle between his fingers.
2. White skeletons in gloom –
Iapetus’
scrimshawed hands trace the grain, worrying at blackened knots. The shadows cast by an unformed jawbone are blazed on bark, a pathway cut in cedar.
3. Striking tombs with his heel –
The blade obeys. T
by ~Sprawwl
BreakingShe cantilevers her wings like doors, ' feathers clicking locks into her back.Breaking
The bit strangles the words that leap
(a thousand red ants) from her mouth and march across the things they unmake that crawl, tremble, still.
He bridles smiles, sucks cold
air across his teeth. What questions whip
his forehead slack, his cheeks tight? What scorpions sting his eyes in this wind?
With one spurred heel, he carves a red staff and a fugue into her white parchment, pulls lullabies from her arched spine.
by ~Sprawwl
The Birth of PegasusI. WaterThe Birth of Pegasus
is life, he said, but still the plankton glistened slickly in the halos' glare - neoned oilslicks, fishscales scraped
across her skin, and heartbeats skipped like hopscotch. Tides smoothed pebbles' edges, vertices collapsing into
spheres. She fell. Surf
foamed white, then pink, then red,
flaying paleness into a colored stone in woman's form, half-sunk between salted grass and sea. The unglassed silica froze and melted in the waves.
II. Son
He mumbles prayers and syllable
by ~Sprawwl
Favourites
tracing the curl tracing the curltracing the curl
of a rose brings to mind the divine machine/sacred ratios fractal by nature veins of a leaf capillaries in flesh the branching streams/a river the coil of a shell we are programmed to see an equation in our mind of minds
recognise/respond
1: 1.618
so simple the distance from elbow to wrist hand to forearm knee to thigh/in this
we do not differ
from a nautilus or bird/we have nothing but a ratio/in this alone/perfection
.
by =salshep
Scratchingsby ~Shyira
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: DeLand, Florida
- Interests: Writing, reading, music, school. Lots of school.
- Favourite band or musician: Mendelssohn, Tchaikovsky, Stravinsky, Prokofiev, Rachmaninoff, Rimsky-Korsakov
- Favourite artist: Picasso, Rembrandt - cliche, I know, but true.
- Favourite poet or writer: Eliot, Ginsberg, Dickinson, Plath
- Email: sprawwling@hotmail.com
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Why don't you join the poetry contest from [link] ?
It's free and every nitwit such as myself who enters gets a small gift
but someone like you might win one of their $10 000 or $100 000 prizes.
--
[NØTHING/REAL] Photography
--
I(now) = I(now - Δt) + Δt ∙ I(now - Δt) for Δt → 0
--
~ Jenn [StarKnight #1: 'Sunshine' - Rank: Captain
- Sectors: Angelos Order, Canterburian Order
- Captain of the Small-Town Order] ~
[Dreams will soon end, visions fade,
fears will cease, all turns to gray.
Hope stays.
~ from 'Hope']
--
“You are where you belong. There are a couple of minor details missing, and I fear there is one you may never gain, but you are where you belong.” ~Maereen Drustalt © veychyryn
--
<salshep> <ordie>I should wite something awsome
<salshep> It's true
<ordie> You're write. That's my one-size-fits-all reort.
#Cabal. Because someone needs to be.
--
kristen
shut up voices, or i'll poke you with a q-tip again
--
くつをください。
keep up the good work.
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