Friday, March 22, 2013

sentences flowing like wine

"Through all he said, even through his appalling sentimentality, I was reminded of something--an elusive rhythm, a fragment of lost words, that I had heard somewhere a long time ago. For a moment a phrase tried to take shape in my mouth and my lips parted like a dumb man's, as though there was more struggling upon them than a wisp of startled air. But they made no sound, and what I had almost remembered was uncommunicable forever."

- F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

Sunday, March 10, 2013

the water reflects the water


From sound to echo
—we sleep. Among
silent mountains, locked
between sides. We crave

only to remain. On
random days we could reflect
angry sunlight away, and
be still. Like words in thoughts,

We could find that we lie,
heaving bodies into mute
ground. For here your head
lies on my chest. Your gaze

will harvest many swallows.
When they fly low, as if
to touch my belly, and they
predict summer in a way I

could never promise.