Twelve Miles of Two Lanes

We're looking for something to believe, to rely on. I looked into the sun's white face And brought back the memory of a nine-year-old boy Camping on the side of a creek, Burning dried mint and grapevine in his campfire And inhaling the smoke, Of an eleven-year-old boy alone in the forest at night,... Sign in to see full entry.

As midnight approaches, an apple-green candle nests in crystal, and a flame-spirit dances on its head. When we make eye contact, I feel an electric shock; but you look away before I can smile. The flame eats away at the candle, leaving a void at its heart. When you stand near me, I smell Port wine... Sign in to see full entry.

Butterscotch fingers of morning sun brush the water's glass surface: Black obsidian turns to golden honey, and golden honey to a silvery mirror where creatures come to give their reflections a good-morning kiss. Perfume of pine mixes with incense of campfire and coffee. We raised a sunken treasure. Sign in to see full entry.

They replaced the moon with concrete, So that you couldn't even see her, And we had to chip away at the concrete block, a little at a time. (Time was all we had.) We wanted no more than we required; But truth is, desire and require sound too much alike, and feel too much alike, not like black and... Sign in to see full entry.

Thought-sound cadence and road-side shivering, Jump and dance and try to give gestures to our meaning, Primary principles, secondary principles, tertiary principles, And more thought-sound and meaning-gestures and method-madness Trapping us in thoughts of future passed. Letting go of thought, Soft... Sign in to see full entry.

We may be but whirlpools in entropy's unrelenting flow, alone in our awareness, at the nexus of certain events, and without spirits to carry our souls. Our love, our pride, and we may be dancing on the edge of oblivion, at the place and time where awareness begins. We fan the flames, gold and blue,... Sign in to see full entry.

Morning fog, glimpses of mailboxes and tree-trunks amid the gray, dim lights moving in pairs like lost eyes, Secret drives; cold dew, burdened leaves, bowing boughs, darting birds, Secret flights; wet grass, muted sounds of human and nature, smell of leaf and mold and fungus, uncountable shades of... Sign in to see full entry.

Winding through honey, yellow light of afternoon, twelve miles of two lanes. Sign in to see full entry.

Okay. So, now I'm lost. In my rush to find the burning white heart of a star, I stumbled, tripped, fell head-long into this grave, half-lit place where dry leaves blow across gray asphalt and loneliness has a sound that everyone recognizes: a bow drawn across a single string, an unanswered canine... Sign in to see full entry.

The gray world was turning to green; But you said, "Everything sucks," Everything sucks, and nothing is sacred. I smiled; And Adelina brought me blooms of azalea and dogwood. "The smell of pine is too strong, here," you said; Vapor danced in the air, infused with the spirits of pine resin, leaf... Sign in to see full entry.