Tag Archives: broken songs

futility

…… i have tried to keep your secret name small and still on my tongue for such a time and much too long, but it wants to spill out into the world, ……………a song.       …..

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The Feasibility of Flight, and other Fragile Things

“What is reasonable is real” – Hegel … They say she’s the real deal. But she’s an un -reasonable soul, really, attempting to cultivate con …….-tent ……………-ment amidst all this crazy sway. She’s seeking some softer -er sound than silence, … Continue reading

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A Growing Glint of Light on a Greasy Spoon

… Too soon, it dawns on her like these eggs, broken before her as an offering: His smile not quite reaching his eyes. The twist of his wrist when he holds her hand. The way her name suddenly sounds sour, … Continue reading

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Let’s Paint Our S(k)in

For all to see, con -fess right here in white and blue and green. Let’s wear our every thought on sleeve, leave nothing to the image(i)nation. Let’s storm the nation in ink and stain, scrawl our most super secret names … Continue reading

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The fault in our scars

… is that the lines are blurred, the places slurred and sorry, paths unclear. Our crooked skin is not enough to hide our sin or ease our pain, or hold our tears. These small etched places are insufficient spaces for … Continue reading

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Moon Swooning

… She’s sliced right …………..clean through, …….but shining on. Really, are we ever ……………anything …………………..but broken?     …..

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The Lloyd Dobler Effect

“I gave her my heart, and she gave me a pen.” Say Anything… (1989) … I don’t want to sell anything, buy anything, process anything. The rain on my car is a baptism, food and sex and spectacle; all just … Continue reading

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The Intricate Impossibilities of Flight

.. First, there’s gravity. The heavy heart, the sacred wanting. There are laws against such things, rules in place to prevent the illusion of wings. And yet we spread our plans, our lies. We flap and flail and fade into … Continue reading

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Gondolas

… Spring. He is all floating lack of direction; she the song. Their centers: three-fourths water and spilling, both flush with the quiet gloss of un -knowing. She traces the canals of her own veins under an unfinished fresco sky. … Continue reading

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Time, You Selfish Bastard

… , indifferent thief. In this brief breath, you will have both stolen it and swollen it, rendered it use(d) -less. You swap the sun for dark -ness, make less of memory, pinch the edges of our hearts closed one … Continue reading

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