saystheshotgun's profile

Icarus icarus did your eyes turn wide and desperate with the stilling of your heart with the naive realization of your mortality as your wings burned to wax no longer a force beyond your own humble earth as the clouds looked on above light and apathetic as the sun burned with loss having only wanted in that brief moment to reach out and touch your golden skin your wings that had both defied her and finally ended abruptly the silent longing that had heavy filled her belly icarus did your eyes ...

the sunlight (for Karen M. Gray on her fifteenth birthday) the sunlight holding itself against you knows with intrinsic knowledge every freckle every spot where it has kissed your skin burning itself against you aware of the limitations of its time wanting only to burn deeper to permeate your skin pervade your existence and pronounce you immortal yet it knows with intrinsic knowledge to extend your existence would also be to end it and so it holds itself against you always ever aware of every...

Tonight, I swear I can hear the musica universalis, the music of the spheres. Tonight, as I gaze up at the heavens, the stars weeping down their light, it is no longer purely a mathematical concept. I can feel the planets spinning, the beauty of numbers in motion, numbers, numbers as innumerable as the stars heavenward, each burning with an identity of their own, each my kin. Both humble and bold, venturesome and timid, lovely and fearsome, they come achingly alive. They waltz; they run; the...

Part One: Elliott, May 8th I watch as she throws herself backward to the green grass of Deakin Park, smiling upwards toward sky and sun and God. Calliope Gray surrounds me. At dusk, I will walk home to an impoverished, one-room apartment after seeing her safely to her own, and, while lying in bed, I will look up and see the first of many sketches of her. Every time I turn, the eyes on canvases will speak, will cry, will shine like her eyes, roses will bloom on cheeks, and lips will curve upwa...

epitaph for guy verlaine the stars were silent never conveying sympathy but burning burning our sorrow and when they deemed it time for my sorrow to end they sent down one of their innumerable number to crash into me and burn the life out and burn the death in and joyous I returned to Valentine for whom my sorrow burned like so many stars epitaph for valentine verlaine ever atlas i held his world on weakening shoulders painting his smiles when he smiled painting his eyes when he did not and e...