You spread out my bones on the church’ s floor, and cry I did not do. You heard the future whisper, and left me alone in the shadows; you stole my sparks, and burn I do not do.
Yet there you are … knees knelt, teareyed and candles lit, looking back at me when all I want is to forget you.
You have pulled me in by the last thread, I shall no longer watch you ebb at the break of the day. Or wonder in sadness as you turn me into a dagger for your heart to stab.
Across the frontier of you and I, beyond memories and darkness, I shall light up into a thousand of fires and plane over your sins and virtues.
Day: April 23, 2010
A Year (for me, at least)
poetryThree hundred and sixty-five days later
And still here.
Still going strong.
Better than ever.
With probably a thousand pieces
Of improbable prose behind us.
(Holy crap, that’s a lot!)
A troupe of awesome men
(and one women)
Putting the pedal to the metal
Or more like, pen to paper,
Or actually, fingers to keyboards
Churning out poem after poem
After poem after poem:
The good (a buttload)
The great (a few)
The bad (no one asked you anyway)
The ugly (that’s the way we like ‘em)
And as it’s been said before:
“Hemorrhaging brilliance daily.”
So though it’s needless to say,
But I’ll say it anyway:
It’s been an honor to share this
Pixilated plane of poetic interweb
Known on the streets as “the Sieve”
With you
Twisted,
Hilarious,
Ridiculous,
And ingenious,
Gents.
You guys (and gal) rock!
the sieve and the sand 