April 22, 2009

I stitched the roses

after they had dried, were
almost soft, barely
stale their scent,

I passed the needle
through their petals,
securing in threads

their jarred bouquet.


Posted by nancy at 09:33 PM | Comments (0)

April 19, 2009

B10. 1, 2, 3, 4 dock: from not all is spiritual

Not all is Come in
that still us from with the
our faults
our to swoon in the crush
of our self wards land. We its, its
shifts of Here am I, your mind
On my that loves your moves,
feels your Of you are; well,
I can roll, too. My foot fell
on your land and Its path to the
Where rose the of the stay, the
of our play, and felt
up At right, Up
to the floor with the view. Your feet falls on me
and walks Its gait
In the yard, in the up the Through the stairs, rooms,
and out of Doors, the yours, me,
the of your For mine
is When I roll is faults
And and Skewed
bridges, I am that
This drawn, my
which you stand and build and walk and
your just my skin—that.

Denials un-words,
supports rolling
thousands bodies
support manners
builders, builders
angles, riser, riser
running, steady, pounding
valley, mountains
risen, playing, staying Over
jealous Instincts
larger, heavier.
swallowed bodies buildings
twisted bridges
heavy substance
upon bury
lovers, beneath.

lovemaking crevices
stimulate tectonic
spiritual, conceptual
masteries imagining


Posted by nancy at 07:14 PM | Comments (0)

B9. Not all is spiritual

Not all is spiritual. Denials Come in un-words,
reinforced supports that still us from rolling with the earth’s
Lovemaking—heaving over our faults into crevices
inviting our thousands bodies to swoon in the crush
of our Self wards land. We stimulate its pleasure, its tectonic

shifts of Here am I, denying your mind
support, spiritual minds, Conceptual manners,
dismissive walkers On my body that loves your moves,
feels your masteries Of imagining you are placed; well,
I can roll over, too. My foot fell

on your land and walked Its tip-toed path to the yards
Where rose the builders of the stay, the builders
of our play, and felt secure, invited
up At right angles, riser, riser Up
to the floor with the view. Your feet falls on me

and walks Its running, steady, pounding gait
In the yard, in the valley, up the mountains, Through the stairs, into rooms,
and out of Doors, the risen yours, playing, staying Over me,
the jealous denier of your spiritual Instincts. For mine
is larger, heavier. When I roll over, lovemaking is faults

And crevices, swallowed bodies and buildings, Skewed
surfaces, twisted bridges, I am that
heavy, This drawn, my non-spiritual substance
Upon which you stand and build and walk And bury
your lovers, just beneath my skin—that spiritual.

Posted by nancy at 07:10 PM | Comments (0)

April 17, 2009

B7. how to get to matter-of-fact

is it courage that finds simplicity
writing its name in any soft place

be it dust or soil? does courage speak,
"Come by me, simplicity, quietly love

the concept of completion," soft, written
in the days that fall particles, closeting

collected matters-of-fact?

Posted by nancy at 04:31 PM | Comments (0)

B6. What are the real lies?

Could they be that a woman is only a wishbone?

pulled apart
slippery at first

then pitched.
or saved, blessed
be the tie that binds?

Could they be real, if they are lies?

Are lies true?

And how would we know?

Will the Comforter
ever come to me again?

Posted by nancy at 04:07 PM | Comments (0)

April 13, 2009

B5. the next

something in this space.
that is all.

move on.

Posted by nancy at 11:03 PM | Comments (0)

April 10, 2009

B4. Twinkle 10

There is more to the evening than the night.

Posted by nancy at 07:17 AM | Comments (0)