uh oh

March 29, 2007

being shy
is not something to be ashamed of.

nor is caring.

oh dear.
this is going to be tough.

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interpretive vertigo

March 28, 2007

sometimes, i am
afraid to let myself hope.

i think you are just
flattering me
when you say that i am
‘a beautiful piece of art’.

what a day

March 26, 2007

i believe in:
living without regret
Sunday mornings
and
bare feet.

“if only, if only,” the woodpecker sighed, “the bark on the tree was a little bit softer…”

good cliche #2

March 25, 2007

wearing a boy’s shirt that still smells like boy

sleep overs

March 25, 2007

sunshine on window sills
you’re
snoring a little bit,
tangled hair tickling
my nose
dampness in the crease between
neck and chin
it smells like
you and i,
asleep together on a 
sunday morning
march birds with chiming
voices

sliding across
down alongside
i think
[no, i mean
i know]
this is the right way

sleepy lips against my
shoulder blade;
i think i’ll stay in bed.

acceptance

March 24, 2007

once in a while, 
i wake up on
a saturday morning
spring stretches
her arms over
the horizon,
yawning with sunlight.
it doesn’t seem 
right, to waste
today writing papers

rainbows
[not raining]
on my blue carpeting
the music is good;
dancing mostly
naked, appreciating
the way 
today
kisses my shoulder
touches my knee

i feel ready
for anything
like all the pieces are
in the right places
at least for the moment.

tomorrow,
i am not so sure.

the world and i,
we are still waiting –
still hesitating;
any dream will do.

(March 23, 24, 30, 31st – 7:30 pm
March 25th – 2 pm
Dale K.  Hidde Theatre
Tosa East
be there.)

Miranda speaks

March 21, 2007

o brave new world, that has such people in it!

turning towards march

March 19, 2007

here are a few things
i enjoy:
we play from inside, from
below, the music
is not quite
absolutely perfect.
i always lick the frosting off
the top of my cupcake
[i think it tastes like spring]
the air smells like rain and green things
letters in the mail signed
by hand,
scrapes on my knuckles and bruises
on my shins.
dozing dreaming through
an afternoon
on the way home just after
sunset
rolling all the windows down as 
the song begins – feeling the seasons
rush through my hair
turning the corner through
a yellow light,
kissing my fingers and making a wish
but
i’m not sure what
i ought to be wishing for.