Earthly Swallow

Pages turned to grey
as each moment lost itself
in sand drips of hourglasses,
in floral couch cushions
and in lightless stars
of the Kuiper belt.

Ink ran down our fingers,
bled from the corners
of our mouths, around
mason jar glasses
full of communion wine,
around planetesimal forms
standing eclipsed in our pupils.

Words erased themselves
from Earth's history.
Syllable by syllable they fled
from the underside
of a billion tongues, escaping
off the edges of open umbrellas

and became memories captured
in a firefly's tail, burning out in summer,
setting the space between your fingers aglow.

We were zeroed in,
back to black-skiy square one
when our languages never breathed
and eyes told our stories
like windows thrown open
to rid our minds of all the smoke,
when open mouths were pressed
in lines and bodies learned to say
I need you.

Pages turned to grey
and skies consumed my goodbye,
wrappped themselves around like wax paper
and banished sound
from our moment.

This Week's Begining is Just an End

This morning is a lazy kind of morning. Not so much tired as an apathetic lazy. I've checked out for this week. There's nothing I can really do to bring myself out of four days from now. I'm already there, waiting on the swing in the backyard under my paisley quilt. Mom and Dad are gone for their black Friday shopping and I am just waiting. It is sunny out and a chilled wind wraps itself around the yard. I draw up the quilt and lay down across the seat, swaying lightly. This year seems to be full of moments like this, sighing moments that just deserve to be observed. Human alterations of these moments would be sinful. They are like silk paintings in the wind, caught by a draft in a split second and then sent flying again as time finds itself and remembers who he is. I wait for the sound of a car, for my phone to vibrate in my pocket, but time seems to have stopped. The browning grass ripples in the wind and the trees make no sound but a low moan between their naked branches. I shush them, dropping my eyes to the back door, watching the house glow orange. Finally it is winter. Not many people can say that, but I have always loved the winter. I have always loved the snow and the shorter days, the whistling of bare oaks and bradford pears, hot tea in a snowman mug, pumpkin pie, Christmas candies, the wait for spring. That is what I love the most about winter--the wait between fall and spring. It is timeless. It is frozen. It is a moment to reflect upon the frivolities of summer that needed no analyzation before now. It is a moment to consider who we are, what we are doing and who it is we miss the most.

Still, I am waiting. I am swinging steadily now, resting my head on the bars, curling my toes under to keep them warm. The dog is laying under the swing, snoring. I envy him. I couldn't sleep now if I wanted to. My notebook lays open flat in my lap, a pen poised between my fingers, but I stare off into the distance and let my eyes slide out of focus. That is where I am. Waiting.

Les Leçons Dans Le Media.

Il y a beaucoup de leçons que nous pouvons apprendre des actualités et des événements dans le monde. Nous apprenons des leçons dans nos vies quand nous voisons des actualités et lire des journales. Aussi de même, si nous voisons les événements dans le monde, nous apprendrons les nouvelles solutions pour les problèmes dans notre pays et le monde.

Par exemple, ce mois, un homme qui s’appelle Nidal Malik Hassan tirait 13 personnes à une base, Fort Hood. Il est musulman, un psychiatre dans le militaire des Etats Unis. Mais, la controverse n’est pas qu’il est musulman, mais que ses amis et ses collègues a dit que ils pensent que Nidal était peut être psychotique. Selon les actualités, il y a beaucoup d’évidence qui suggérer que Nidal avait des problèmes psychologique avant de cet incident.

Personne n’ai pas disent qu’il était des problèmes avec Nidal. Il était suivant des sites web qu’il était pour les radicales et les terroristes, mais personne n’ai pas disent quelque chose au gouvernement avant de le meurtre. Aussi, il était entrainé avec des groups Islamiques radicaux. Maintenant, il ferait face la peine de mort. Mais, il était des personnes qu’ils pouvaient prévenir tout ce que ce passe. Il y a une leçon ici.

Si nous saisons qu’une personne a des problèmes dans leur vie, nous avons une responsabilité de dire ca. Pour la sécurité des autres personnes et pour la personne dans son tort, nous devons être conscientes de quand une personne n’est pas totalement d’accord. Ceci ne vois dit pas que nous devons être fouiné, mais quand il y’a un grand problème, nous devons dit ca.

Président Obama a ordonné une révision des agences intelligences des Etats Unis pour savoir s’ils savaient que Nidal avait des problèmes. Il est possible qu’il trouve plus que nous savons au sujet de l’état mental de Nidal avant de le meurtre. C’est triste qu’il était des évidences qu’indique ses problèmes. Peut être il serait libre et recevant le traitement pour sa condition psychotique. Mais, non.

Nous avons beaucoup de leçons d’apprendre quand les évents passent comme ca. Il est importante que nous sommes clairvoyantes et entendent quand il y a un grand événement sur les actualités et dans les journales. Ils nous enseignent beaucoup pour nos vies et pour la sécurité, la longévité et la prospérité de notre monde.

Recollection

She didn't hear him the first time he called. She was wrapped in the blankets like a cocoon and the blue light from the television was floating beneath her eyelids, aurora patterns against the black. Somewhere at the base of her neck she could feel the prick of waking. It crawled up into her brain and invaded her consciousness.

He called again. Soft.

It was her favorite way to wake, in the middle of the night, swathed in an electric blanket and cramped on the couch in the den. She drew the blanket back up over her head and laughed.

“I’m so comfortable.” she groaned.

He called again, this time closer, showering her in his warm breath. She let her head sink back into the couch, sighing, willing herself to open her eyelids and leave sleep behind. His fingers traced the length of her jaw. It was every night like this, every night waking up where she shouldn’t be, him bringing her back to bed. She laughed again.

“I must have fallen asleep.”

He answered in a low murmur, drawing her further and further from her repose. He called once more. She pulled down the blanket, let the full wave of light from the TV hit her, and slid open her eyelids.

And to the room she gave one hollow sigh. She shuffled across the room, shut off the television and went back to bed, twisting his wedding band around her finger.

Atonement

When the moon swells, we’ll all die.
It’s just inevitable, in fact she’s been
bloated these past few days.

She sucks in the night sky and chews
up the stars between her teeth.
And her belly laugh sings us all to sleep.

When the moon swells, she pines
for the ocean’s touch and she’s reaching
out for him to take her back where she belongs.

Moon from water, earth from water,
we are all in love with liquid, longing
to be blanketed in soundless glide.