#draft poetry

[only-of-bones]

An Ace of spades

On the end of the arrow

Firmly notched in my bow.

Aim true

I beg the card

Even though 

The target remains immutable

And ever changing. 

Just this once

Aim true. 

[aradicalname-wells]

Ah where we weave our dark magic in bedrooms and studios - that spark which creeps around at the edge of vision like a secret wolf, but that we feel, like the warmth of coffee in our veins, that swallow it all like an addict. Ah where muscles lead minds and minds follow on, delirious and amazed.

Secrets and Music, Amanda Wells 2015

[carissamaritorres]

Luna

She keeps herself covered, letting them wonder.

Perchance the night seemed too dark –

as wise and inscrutable as she is.

She sees the hidden, she sees your soul

She sees the beauty behind that hole

Beware. She is everywhere.

But no, don’t be absurd, she’s not after you

She is just there; all she does is stop and stare.

Quite strange how every motion is being watched,

calculated, arbitrated, noticed…

But she remains immobile

and soundless.

It is forever

and a choice.

It is an endless battle between vision and voice.

Look up in the night sky and bid her goodbye

An hour or two she’ll venture her way

Out of the frolicsome annexes of this castle in the air

Up to the given nadirs of melancholy

Departing from you with the thoughts of her –

Preoccupied.

January 4, 2014