I guess it's about staring the train wreck down, right down to the rail road ties, sifting through smoke, metal and memory. "Bravery is not for the beautiful."

Mostly you will find posts that contain poems, paragraphs or narrative non-fiction in process or my thoughts on my writing adventures and of course there may be the occasional rant.

I am currently doing "the grind". It's where one writer invites another to be apart of a group. For one month the group of you email new work every day. That means I am writing every day. I will be updating more often, trying to get a little bit more comfortable putting my work "out there".

Friday, November 30, 2012

Metaphor


He gave me silence-

   the kind of silence
that only snow can bring to
   New York City.

He gave me his hands,
   brown, worn and angry.

He gave me my body,
   his body
Leviticus- tongue to cheek.

He gave
  hair patterns, books, philosophy
and the tight rope between
51 and 50.

He gave me her, only
on loan, a Mother.

He gave me breath, bullshit, butterflies
  and battleship.

He gave me silence,
            but left me words
and I gave his hands
   my
      tattoo's.
****
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1 comment:

  1. JulesDecember 14, 2012 at 7:28 PM

    I've grown accustomed to being rendered speechless by the weight of your words, and yet you catch me off guard once again.

    ReplyDelete

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