A microscopic home.

this is a literary blog. i'm literate so i must have something to say. hopefully.

Friday, June 16, 2006

I felt your body pale and frailer than
I could imagine you to be.

I know that I have done this.

With my failures, comes
a result so out of context that

if I could avoid hurt

I would avoid it for us all.

But sorrow is nipping my fingers
hanging ceaselessly on
these shoulders bending and
spinning the muscles of my
back into knots of unfinished
sentences with
possible exaggerations

A careless thrust
of ineptitude isn’t always just that.

will we find the end to
and the beginning of
something definable
as happiness

would he be so generous?

And god knows I hate him
For making me.

But with such good attention
to detail
he tethers me to the earth

through the trees,

this is the only way I manifest.

in gentle good intentions

left open to the extremities.
Tortured. Always.

Yet forced to wait,
for roots to deep.

To the sky,
open and exposed
Transparent and vicious,

Yet forced to wait
for fear of pulling this whole
universe down


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