[x]

Red ShiftI. Stasis i.
"I need to hide a body,"

The crispness
Before a question is asked
Is interrupted

"Yours."

I. Stasis ii.
I hang up on him

And hesitate;
Wait for vivisection
By vibration;

Wait for him to call back
To confirm
What he heard.

I can hear him
Go back to sleep.

II. Intravenous i.
He is alive.

Photos of him
Have a distant red shift
In his eye.

Photos of me
Have an approaching blue tint
In the iris.

I wait for him to call back
To confirm
What he heard.

II. Intravenous ii.
I'm digging
For the others

I had hid a town or two away.

The shovel
Won't break the cul-de-sac asphalt
Where forest floor
Had been.

II

to a womanYou see it coming from the men.
You see the ways their eyes linger on you
When they're looking around the room
The way their bodies brush yours when you're walking through the hallways to class
The way they stutter and look away when apologizing for the accidental contact of skin to skin
You see it coming from the men.
You never see it coming from me.

God, was the world not complicated enough already
Without causing me to notice the interplay of textures in her hands
The calluses like mahogany mountains carving ridges of stone
Into her palms softer than Impressionistic sunlight?
I'm not supposed to feel this way about another woman

bleeding out.

i. there's blood everywhere. it's all different shades of red. crimson, scarlet, blazing ruby. darkened in some places. it's slipping into the water and adorning it pink.

ii. pink. thulian. rose. carmine. puce. (puce is a yucky word, it sounds like throwup.) nadeshiko. coral. persian. carnation. salmon. pink in the water and its slipping out over the whitewashed walls onto the floor and it's going to drip and go through the ceiling like that one time a couple years ago. i hope dad doesn't get mad.

iii. it doesn't hurt anymore.

iv. it's sunshine outside and everyone is smiling. i'm a kid again and the world is all crayons and swingsets and

Kitsune WeddingAnd skyscrapers fold so easily, after all;
I'll put one in my pocket, to be warm like a croissant,
tasted gently with the coffee sweet and bitter on our tongues

Under sunshowers I stay inside
I watch the trees sway giddy, drunk with glinting happenings,
and I trace your picture with a thumb, a picture in my copper heart,
a picture of your smile and threads of red within your beard

How we grew: you fit your ears now, a handsome man. I have
some grace, at least. When you tell me I'm not ugly
I believe it

Smile, then. Thunderstorms deserve to be lauded,
a peace to enfold you gently, when you arrive, and I will watch. You
are the fort

Transylvanian Reveries

You’ve been here before…

The mist is rolling in,
Curling over the crests of distant hills.

You know this place already…

A chill is setting into your bones,
The smoke of a dying fire sweeps across the fields.
You have dying embers laid out before you.
They’re crackling,
Cackling.
Deep crimson flickers through the charred blackness.

This land knows you already…

A chorus of mournful howls begin.
The air comes to life with the haunting cries.

They’re chanting your name…

The fog gets ever deeper,
The howls come ever closer.

You’ve been here before…
Your imprint is ready-made in this sce

once.the world was wider, once: strewn bright
and willing to a fingertip's beckoning, riddled
with roads that spilled in breathless wanders
to otherlands of reverie. i remember
the promise i made a wild changeling child
before i bade her hush and say goodnight --
i've not woken her since: she sleeps and i steal
her spun-glass dreams for my garden
of wilt, ever longing to hold
the ghost-dance that spins by their dying light.

NautilusI

the rest of my life should be early
mornings; when God is still sleeping.
I should wake up curled in a corner of the sofa,
pearlescent, like the primordial ammonites.

II

I follow you every night-
the hunter shooting at the celestial bull,
shimmering crusts of bread through the dimmest lands of passage.
Suggesting a way home.

Home, or across the ocean,
or everywhere under the moon if,
early mornings, when God still sleeps,
I wake up warm in the corner of the sofa,
and you are not an idea anymore.

III

the rest of my life should be early
mornings; when God is still sleeping.
I should wake up curled in a corner of the sofa,
pearlescent, l

AfforestLast darkness will fall like autumn leaves
(wandering)
Dusky ground covered with many coloured twilights
(do you see all the lovely greys?)
Underneath which ghosten happiness lays buried
(spring was too far away. Alas)

Last darkness is falling like autumn leaves
(wondering)
Dusky ground covered with beaten light's corpse
(do you see all the dimmed colours?)
Underneath which darkened May Day lays buried
(spring is too far away. Alas)

Last darkness has fallen like autumn leaves
(withering)
Dusky ground covered with still-frozen time
(do you see all the solemn blacks?)
Underneath which deadened Freya lays buried
(spring will be

the pumpkin patchshall we head to the pumpkin patch this year,
parade the candy-free costumes
we picked up this afternoon?

even though it's a drive up north now,
a sharp turn off the highway
next to a

caravan,
painted jack-o-lantern peeling
over its rusted ankles;

even though we're all grown up now,
sifting through
superwoman and scullery skanks,
bartenders and Lolitas in the
"young adult" section?

shall we head to the pumpkin patch this year,
past the Halloween Depots with their
fifty dollar loincloths and
hundred dollar sheets,
calculated stitch by China-stitched stitch,

and call sweet nothings to a great, great pumpkin
all-loving, im

Holiday Tableau IITwilight flits across
the day, warning way-
ward children it is
time to scurry home.
The sun dips, modest,
as the stars twirl in

apprehension of
the moon's arrival.
Chimneys softly sigh
as families gather
by the fireside,
where flames dance across

fresh-adorned twinkle
lights and in bright eyes.
There is a silence
in the sugary-
cinnamon air that
calms long-labored nerves

and lifts worlds off the
tops of shoulders; Homes
exude warmth, other-
wise unaccounted.
This, the holiday
glow, romanticized

and yet untarnished.
Pour another glass
of eggnog and sing
another song of
yule tide cheer - I wont
be disenchanted.

i saw god leaving the shoreLast night I dreamed of blue-grey shores
Of miserable black rocks
that pushed back a tide that crawled with the dull wind
And how I moved so quickly,
Towards the salty edge of the earth;
She told me to run,
To kick back the sand as hard as I could
until something appeared.
And I suddenly saw haunting, stone walls
Gleaming in their symmetry
Made of pale, sturdy nostalgia
with deja vu dripping down
Slipping like liquid mercury
I ran towards it eagerly, and chased my own reflection -
But whenever I caught a glimpse of myself
The drops would dribble and scatter away.
She told me to run further
And my heart ached and my spine arched
against the stinging, salty wind
Yet before I knew it, the ocean floor moved
And I ran down shores
at every turn-
each perpendicular to the previous one.
Everywhere, identical blackened stone barriers
They are all the same, she said
Their crashing waves make the

why i'm scared of ghostsdear ghost of christmas past,
it's christmastime.  christmas eve, to be exact.  i can't look outside without seeing the shimmer of the snow, like tiny fireflies etched into each flake.  glistening strands of colorful bulbs christen the neighborhood, like they're declaring us worthy of a little light.
i'm shivering like i got caught in a snow bank, and i'm blinking like i'm hoping my eyelashes will tangle together and pull my lids closed.
i was wondering; if dreams are so pretty, why do they shatter like sherry glasses against tile as soon as we open our eyes?  maybe they aren'

starspunobserving the romanticism
of hooded cemetery kids,
smoking cigarettes pretending
they are not dead.

you were always so sure
about my uncertainty,
you watched
all my pick up lines
drop things.

we built the heat
of the evening from the solidity
of starlight,

pretended
that two teens at the park
at midnight
is the stuff of teen novels
(cliches dim on
our leaf-gold horizon)

your eyes darted
from the gray expanse
of the churchyard & wandered
in thoughtful
paths.

i wanted to ask you
if i could follow. shove
the words aside &
remember that i came here alone.

i remember our innocence
in the static b e t w e e n
stars

EntrenchmentsSomeday, we will come back

When you walk among your fields
That lay peaceful in the pink sunset
You will remember the blood
And we will be here once more

When the noonday sun
Specks the silent plow with diamonds
You shall think of bayonets
And screams that tore as they fell

When your children run among the grasses
Shining ethereal in the twilight
You shall think of ghosts
And of ghost children that never were

The world has forgotten us
The earth will not forget

In our memory, is our revenge

Grass on your knees and water on my feet.The sky was a deep overwhelming blanket tucked into the spots our limbs couldn't

fill, and the stars were the brewing passion burning through the bruised fragments

of me, gobbling up all of my fear in flickers to tickle my secrets until they cried

mercy and gave themselves up to be saved by the gentle graze of your hands.

You filled and overfilled my arms until there was no room for me to hug the trees

anymore, but the wind carried my affection which moved the branches to find the

will to reach out to the sky, slowly caressing the invisible clouds back and forth,

forth and back, and the perfect crescent moon married them over and over

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Misty Eyes.Your misty breath got caught in the valleys,
Catching on villages, and
Drowning us in white.

Casting shadows,
In sparkling shades of grey,
I'm yet to discover,
Nevermind describe.

I pity you,
Your foolish thoughts,
Of giants; lost in dreams.

So I try to concentrate on the reality,
(that neither you nor I know.)
I drift among ghosts of thought,
Chains of smoke and loss,
Only to think of you once more;
To where you stand on the hillside,
Fading into the green,
And disapearing;
Before I have the chance,
To call and hold you close,

And you've gone.

I wander alone in mists of Grey,
And dream of your eyes.
They were the one pla

Jumble Sale Girl.She was a jumble of words and phrases,
That would only ever make sense to her,
She wrote them down on scraps of paper,
And lost them in the chaos of her life,

But every now and then she'd happen
Across a note with frayed edges,
And faded script, and she'd smile
As she thought of the moment,
When she last sat down to write.

Misty Seas, Weak knees,
She wrote that when she was at west coast,
Overlooking the promenade, watching
Sodium light up the streets below.

And she's like stormy weather
She liked to think she wasn't predictable,
Though she knew she must be,
But wove lies from lightning and
Dreamt of thunder.

Dra

Cecilia, My winter child.Cecilia, was a girl of mystery,
Had a pixie face, and emerald tears,
She moved quietly through a world of colour,
And Caught shadows cast in smoke,
She wore lace around her ankles,
Wrists, and neck,
And wrote, somewhere,
On some scrap, that she pretended they were bells,
To which she could dance.

See Cecilia, was a lucky girl,
We all loved her so, and her smile brought joy,
To the coldest winter morn, But her berry cheeks
Began to fade, when she had just turned six,
And her snow for skin, began to melt,
Her world was stripped away.
All black and grey, and shades of white,

And on her grave they began to write,
My

Sky Blue, Moss Green.She's an autumn leaf,
Caught on the wind,
Floating on wild
Thermals on which birds fly,
But she's easily broken.
And rapidly losing colour,
Getting duller,
As she slowly reaches the floor.

And he's jolted awake,
To the sound of bleeping
And sterilised cotton offending his nose,
He can see the bruising spreading,
And the paleness of her usually caramel skin,
Her eyes are unclosed,
But her hand's releasing pressure,
And the doctors and nurses fuss around her,
Getting more and more stressed,
A deadly electricity filling the air,
His eyes refusing to leave hers,

Sky blue and Moss green.
Locked, lost, but never

Auto focus failure
Grains on screens,
Blur your smile,
And I squint to see,
The glint in your eye,
You're the sugar baby,
Who floats round my room,
Mocking me, and catching
My breath as I search for you,
Behind cupboards, under chairs,
I yearn for your voice,
all soft and light and
Free

I cast my heart in plaster,
And painted it gold and blue,
Just cause, it reminds me of
You, and your tinny laugh,

As time passed,
Other girls graced my scene,
I stopped thinking of you,
And your black and blue lies,
I forgot how to focus,
And how to smile,

So just you and me,
Lets smile for a while

Hey now Annie Girl,
Don't you cry

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I am not summer personified

by ~blood-red-ribbons, Dec 22, 2012, 1:42:33 PM
Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

Do not compare me to a summers day,
I'm an autumn baby, with fallen leaves,
Printed in gold and amber across my skin,
With the deepest red sunset lips,
Offset by snowy skin.
I am the crisp breath of wind,
On oxygen starved lungs.
Forget the call of the heat,
And fall into my mist embrace.

I am not summer personifiedby ~blood-red-ribbons

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Free Verse

. I was born to the frost covered leaves.

~angelichope Feb 18, 2013

Very lovely!!!

*SereneCyrene Jan 12, 2013 Student General Artist

Hello! Your poem has been featured here: [link]

~blood-red-ribbons Jan 12, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thats amazing, thank you

=Daft-Enigma Jan 4, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Well deserved DLD!
There is something very enchanting about this poem that stad with the reader for a while after it's over.

~blood-red-ribbons Jan 6, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you! I was really proud of it

*ShadowedAcolyte Jan 4, 2013

Last four lines are excellent!

I enjoyed this immensely. Autumn is by far my favorite season. (And congrats on the DLD!)

~blood-red-ribbons Jan 4, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Haha, thank you very much! I was quite proud of this

*xlntwtch Jan 4, 2013 Writer

I definitely feel colder after reading this short poem.
The imagery includes the title-season and the fall -- and you seasoned this piece just right. Thank you.

~blood-red-ribbons Jan 4, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you! Comments like that really brighten up my days

*xlntwtch Jan 4, 2013 Writer

Your work helped my day, too. And you're welcome

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