UnravelingJonathan walked into his apartment, the squeak of the door echoed through the dark, empty space. As his feet shuffled, the sound bounced along the wooden floors, and filled the vacant rooms. His chest ached from the cold night, and he coughed in a way that hurt his lungs and throat. After removing his coat and hat, he made his way to the back of the apartment.
All the rooms breathed a stillness that set an edge to his footsteps; he breathed heavily. Moonlight shot through the barren windows, void of any fabric or blinds, and illuminated the white walls. The occasional pile of grit, screws, and wood splinters littered the floor. Nothing was left, no furniture, nothing. He had given away all of the couches, chairs, bed frames, pillows, sheets, appliances, everything earlier in the week.
The hallway in the back was the only place that was truly dark; his door at the end was closed. He knew just behind it, the moon glared through the glass; ever so slowly it tanned the opposite side of the
Pillow TalkNight sighs in a million whispers
Ensnared between lovers lips.
Each minute sound, a small confession;
A single stitch closer to a marvelous tapestry.
In the moonlight we wink in Morse code,
Slowly weaving ourselves into a single cloth
A cloth, fine, rich, and soft,
Yet rugged and durable
With the hint of rustling,
The wind betrays our presence,
Exposing out pressed, folded, and wrung shapes.
Tonight, we crochet emotion into existence,
One strand at a time.
Moment of WeaknessHush, she says
Fingers in my hair.
My heart races
Beneath all the layers
Of synapses, muscle, skin.
She leans forward,
Lips open and full.
My mind clutters
Yet I am in a lull
From caresses and sweet sin.
Her breath is now mine
It has been for far too long.
My mouth thinks its right
But my mind knows its wrong
Going back to where I have been.
Amorous AnamorphosisMy love for you is a wild thing
Twisted, tied, tangled
Into a Möbius strip of feeling.
When I see you, my stomach churns
And I want to say Everything out loud.
But, when I see you, I also suffer
From anarthria of the mind.
The clouds murmured and roared,
Echoing war drums across the water.
Lightning scarred the horizon
In violent arcs of energy.
The torrential rain claimed all,
An intense, wrathful baptism.
My nails scoring the Earth,
I crawled onto the slick shore.
Unleashing a baleful howl,
Declaring my arrival
And want of company.
In dream you heard me.
Ears ringing, eyes fluttering
Your heart was lulled by my call.
Alone, I slept in the dirt of my ancestors,
Whispering, mouthing words of comfort:
Across silken shadows
Your heartbeat murmured,
Gently tugging my limbs into action.
Wreathed in shadow and mist
I followed the ethereal sound,
To your high window.
With soft eyes I gazed
Upon your silent beauty;
A solace to my solitude.
Beckoning with my soul,
You awoke, fumbling with the latch
And we glided into the night.
Your head rested upon my chest,
My thundering heart.
Hanging in the moonlight,
As if suspended on s
Tourist SeasonThe geese lazily flap their wings as they descend. White on grey, geese on clouds. A huge V cut into the clouds, and flying in like some sort of plane. Their delicate features curve, arc, and dip, magnified by the binoculars.
Just look at them all, I say, surveying the great white mass of them. Like the fucking tulips, only white.
The field is teaming, and consequently, so are the roads. I sigh, and march up to my truck. A deep green van pulls up behind me, and a family of four jumps out. Two children, both boys, and young. They all stand there, on the side of the road, all boggle-eyed and oohing and aahing while taking pictures. Never mind the half-ass parking job, theyre only halfway in the lane. Plenty of room on these roads. Especially when cars fly by going fifty.
Untroubled, the geese just mill around, occasionally honking and saluting each other as more and more of them alight onto the cold, dark fields. In another month or so they