ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Summer hair
tossed, curling locks of sweet chestnut
risen bulk of thick oak trees
throats of soil,
heads of blooming green
stifling heat, fogs of orange dusk
wooden gate / rusted iron lock
kissing blades of grass
a stone wall / a wailing wall
yellow parchment paper
drops of cerulean ink
tiny little prayers
unanswered questions
shadowed secrets
buried beneath stones, glass, cool dirt
(cairns for fragile memories)
to be swallowed up by the womb of Earth
safe for another day.
tossed, curling locks of sweet chestnut
risen bulk of thick oak trees
throats of soil,
heads of blooming green
stifling heat, fogs of orange dusk
wooden gate / rusted iron lock
kissing blades of grass
a stone wall / a wailing wall
yellow parchment paper
drops of cerulean ink
tiny little prayers
unanswered questions
shadowed secrets
buried beneath stones, glass, cool dirt
(cairns for fragile memories)
to be swallowed up by the womb of Earth
safe for another day.
Literature
It is hard to be soft
Mom cutting Dad's hair in the kitchen. Feather voices
because they are discussing matters heavier than water,
jarring scrapes when they move the chair.
Tufts of hair fall, touching the
curved blade of ear. It is sharper, as are our brains,
than you think, even as
the night velvets. It pads alongside my cat,
who sits behind the laundry room door and makes old saxophone sounds.
I slip inside to touch
the kitten scruf of his neck.
How difficult it is, to definitively love or hate,
when everything is so soft.
From where I sit there are no windows
and except for drooping eyelids I would not believe
in the moon. Or in the swift autum
Literature
Lipstick
“I keep having these weird dreams where I’m stuck in a wooden box with a really really sharp knife,” I say.
“Oh, Rhiannon, I think all that lipstick is finally getting to your brain,” says Sabine.
“Leave me alone about the lipstick,” I say.
The lipstick started during the divorce, and even though all is better now, the lipstick habit still remains. But seriously, it tastes good. It’s not like I eat it when I’m extra sad about the divorce or anything like that. It all comes down to the simple fact that I enjoy this stuff.
“Have you tried the orange kind yet?” Sabine asks me. &
Literature
stop ruining autumn.
listen:
fall makes me think of leaving and of apple cider, though i never liked apple cider.
but i liked the idea of it.
listen:
two years ago i met a boy as fragile as dead leaves who called me his little spring girl. (i'd always liked autumn the best.) he kissed the two soft dimples on the small of my back and told me helikedme helovedme hewantedme.
and oh, by the way, "everything good must come to an end."
listen:
on our one year anniversary we picked out two pumpkins and i drew elephants on them for us to carve. he cut his out so aggressively that it lost its shape.
lopped off tusks and broken trunks became just a large, jagged ho
Suggested Collections
summery things.
© 2009 - 2024 clockwork-aristocrat
