Paper lands

In falling out of seasons and stars

The embers’ creep unfurrrowing charts

From fingers’ width to leagues unbound

Stone, wood and sea in all their parts

Vistas each moment by ash remarked

Wings arising to crumble

Thence gone afar

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The things we half forget

For all the days we left behind, which somehow turned to years

Before we knew autumn’s second meaning

Or saw pages thin to sheer

We will have other summers, yet more like other lives

Child-selves running through pictures

Of lost-remembered ties

~

Image source

Morning Synesthesia

I woke up prematurely

In the most agreeable way

Three sweetly-laden platters

A black forest, a mousse, a cheesecake

And as I dressed for work

I still wanted to believe

Sadly, my empty stomach

Proved the cakes were just a dream

 

 

 

Sleepless

Dark the curtains when dark the night

‘Gainst shards of fire from moonside skies

Fear turning upon the flick of a light

The whisper of water

A child’s cries

The Monty Hall Problem: Evidence From the Singles’ Market

We are asking to fall hard

And to find the softest

Landing

Parallel Outlet: 13

loving you is like walking in the door, warm
the snow soaks into my clothes
turning to water and
rinsing me clean

Even with the curtains shut, and no fireplace to be seen in my bachelor apartment, poem number 61 from ELLEGUYENCE gives me the sensation of looking out onto a crisp snowy landscape, frost on the glass and a fire crackling at my side.

What is the difference between that kind of coziness, and the feeling of love? Hot cocoa and kisses, flannel sheets and hugs. I have been pondering this without finding a factor that I can use to delineate those two sensations. Even though their origins may differ wildly, viscerally they feel so very similar to me, and I don’t mean this to trivialize love. Maybe the opposite.

your pillow is always the softest.

Whether it is the softest pillow I have ever held or the gentlest person I have ever known, these things jumble together to form gratitude. Snowy days are carrying away my wistfulness at another year’s leaves falling, and I’m happy to be sitting inside with my tea, re-reading Elle’s 61, which I think you should read too.

you said you never believed in luck
until you saw my chances
and cast a bet anyway.

~

Image from Pinterest.

Still as sand

I lost you a thousand times before

I ever knew your embrace

And I made a maze of patience

Of parallel lives and vacant space

I have known that want and may again

Now begun, before we are through

But even if we laid still as sand

We would fall as the wind felt due

~

Image from The Science Explorer