I changed the commenting to 'anyone' this morning, because my mum (well she is like a second mum) wanted to leave something, but couldn't because she wasn't a registered user. All I ask is pls no poetry left to the posts. Grazie.
Not a lot new here or I am too tired to think of anything. I am guest poet over at UV's site and I appreciate that. If you'd like to check that out, the link is on the right. Other than that, I want to crawl back to bed this morning - as I mentioned, I am extremely sleepy.
I need to drop my camera off to get it cleaned, so not too many photos for a few days. But here is a shot I took in Carmel, Ca. I hope you enjoy it. Ciao!
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 5:05 AM
Thursday, May 11, 2006
You may take what you need from me—
I only enhance being a part of you.
And I drive from east to south, the flat of high-
way stretching through fields, towns, and the
darkening cities that pass.
I open the window—my heart and movements
vague: I am moving too fast to remember.
And oh, the ache beneath white breast—
at least a dozen shards sever flesh.
Because of you, they impel like hooks in
the mouths of swollen fish—what I have,
they take, leave naught to simmer in summer
sun. A ciascuno il suo.
I pull to the side, tear at my dress—
oh, the thought of you along my hemline:
imagining lessons learned only in dark places,
drives a woman to slave. I want you wet, an
open door, and between ankle and mouth,
I will seek pleasure beyond pain.
I stand in stillness, morning as far as the sea—
fresh fruit on my tongue as if I have already
had what is mine, as if we were not separated
by time nor season. My body rests against
the night, one hand gripping forever.
The breaths I have taken in your absence,
stolen from your palm, remain
straight-faced as I stare into nothingness.
And I want you to know that each second
that passes, my fingers grow tired of exploration,
require your slow, steady hand for guidance.
I want to know your scent, the churches that went
to flame knowing of the heat, the women before
me that fell into the fire—that layer of your
I must begin my journey again, rise from this
place, make my way to you. I must drive, I will
not eat, not cease this longing to be beside such
a man, a craving that will not cease upon my
cheek—it fashions resolve to hollow.
I am yours and I will slip myself into the soreness
of your chest—calming the split that I caused many
months ago— if only I can swallow the hours that
press, if only I might finish what I have started.
Draft II (will fix the structure later)
Babbled by Cher Ferroggiaro at 10:14 AM