Category: ‘writing’

invitante infinito

June 14, 2016 Posted by the writer

invitante infinito

egli è apparso e
il mio mondo suonava
come corde.
attraverso una strada di città
all’interno della luce solare
mi voltai per vedere
un ritratto della storia;
il mio cuore. rinato.
cigarretes e jazz.
fare l’amore
con parole e suoni
inaudito , indicibili
da qualsiasi altro.

inviting infinity

he appeared and
my world sounded
like strings.
across a city street
inside of the sunlight
i turned to(o)…
a portrait of history;
my heart. reborn.
cigarettes and jazz.
silence and stories.
making love
with words and sounds
unheard, untold
from any other.

this is how it starts and sounds…

conclude commission

June 6, 2016 Posted by the writer

conclude commission

when you
cut like you
knew this
would never
work. (more…)

tricking turnabout

June 2, 2016 Posted by the writer

tricking turnabout

i have a terrible habit
of
shutting off
communication.
i ran thr(ew)(ough);
a spiral
of
mixing. shaking
up. how
i find (k)new w-
aze. i. mean
these things
i cannot
spell.
out. as in
someone. finally
pulled
at me. my hair;
how i stay
reconnected.
tricking.
turnabout.

rekindle rapport

May 26, 2016 Posted by the writer

rekindle rapport

when we met
we extended. i taught
and we learned
while he swore. that. this
only happens once.
i chewed my nails
and i bit too short.
i curled into 4am
silence. and he was
the one p/eace/iece
be(cause) the way i
shake. he k(new)
that. when i stretched
into the sun it was
like i could never reach
far. enough. the style
i chose to stop; inside.
there is so much
loud noise every time
i hold my breath.
when i exhale
he always appears
again.

aspiring amore

May 10, 2016 Posted by the writer

aspiring amore

I was. Thinking in poetry again.
Green-blue constellation eyes. Staring. Back.
I inhaled now and stopped wishing for when.
I straightened my spine and felt my bones crack.
A bounce in my step and new aura glow;
Like there’s no longer a possible stop.
And never invention of the word no.
The expansion of my heart. Stomach drop.
What I didn’t say came out through my pores.
Sunlight showers washing my grey sky days.
Opening windows and taking down doors.
Reinvention of love, finding new ways.
His puzzle piece body completes my spread –
A hydrated desert. Appetite fed.

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    FollowMeToNYC is a creative processing ground which expresses individual ideas that often change with the tides. Naturally, these ideas do not reflect those of any of my employers, or anyone else you might see me wandering down the street with one day.
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