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LunaLunaLuna
I'm not sure what I was doing When you became the cliché That I couldn't leave unwritten,
Nor can I say where I was When you crept above the trees, Past clouds and cities and oceans
And barking dogs, or who I was with When I recognized that it was your face That had been watching me while I slept.
I don't know what song I was listening to, Or what I was saying, or if I was saying Anything at all when you first shook out
That white silken sheet and tucked me in -- Refusing to say goodnight Until I had closed my
by ~GNUBoarder
Funny MathI think I found the best problem for all my solutions she said unwittingly.Funny Math
Drunk, tweaked, or a little too alive, seventeen, maybe twenty-six.
I thought, She is in no position to be doing computations,
and used the warped reflection from between the numbered circles
to straighten my tie.
The humming turned to whining and gravity forgot itself for a slow moment before the doors receded to reveal floor fourteen.
My floor.
She was seventeen, maybe twenty-
by ~GNUBoarder
Post MortemIf, when I die, there are answers in my stomach,Post Mortem
my liver, kidneys, lungs, intestines, or bladder,
a doctor whose hand I will never grip against my own
will lift apart my chest like an old bulkhead--
once inside he will poke, slice, and surgically remove each question,
sewing me back up like a teddy bear being restuffed.
If this happens, try not to think of it as me when he holds the door and tells you,
You'll have to leave the room now, ma'am.
by ~GNUBoarder
Favourites
Rowsby ~notcomindown
Friendsby ~notcomindown
teadreamShe drinks a Russian dream from a cup painted with straw- berries, smells a thousand years' worth of mountainside sees monks with calloused hands lay tiles to glimmer golden shards of indigo, carnelian, god in the candlelight.teadream
There is everlasting smoke it lays a shadow across meticulous mosaics threatens holy rain deep in the sepulcher. This is a mountain promise, a prophesy for when
time stirs the earth enough
to claim cathedral walls,
and lay the monks many centuries to sleep.
by *jamberry-song
Fave News
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- 54 Is dA a Community, Indeed... - Jun 17, 2009
- 35 You are invited to write - Aug 9, 2008
- 42 FavShare -- Awareness between Visual and Lit! - Apr 28, 2007
- 101 The Generic Prose Competition - Apr 26, 2007
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Devious Info
- Favourite movie: Waking Life
- Favourite band or musician: The Decemberists
- Favourite genre of music: Yes
- Favourite poet or writer: Billy Collins
- Skin of choice: Bare
- Favourite game: Haha, Now You're Poor!
- Favourite cartoon character: Dream, from The Sandman
- Personal Quote: "Don't you know it, that's irony baby!"
- Tools of the Trade: Typewriter, Rocks, Tide
- Email: nledwith@adelphia.net
- AIM: trivialproblems
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--Poetic X-Presstions.
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<caveatLECTOR>and jon beat me to uranus LOLOLOL
<concrete-surfer> your mom depreciates in value as she's traded
<intangebility> o man. pink is singing sweet dreams on tv atm, and madeline says "string trees are made of peas?"
--
"Washed under the blacktop,
Gone beneath my wheels,
There's nothing that the road cannot heal"
--
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