sitting at a desk, shaking my knee, sitting at a desk, going on hour three
sitting at a desk, only so much music I can take, sitting at a desk, will I ever wake.
sitting at a desk, the sky so far away, sitting at a desk, the money makes me stay.
sitting at a desk, I don't know what for, sitting at a desk, I'd like to run out the door.
sitting at a desk, the world passes me by, sitting at a desk, this desk thing could make me cry.
sitting at a desk, I grow older every day, sitting at a desk, oh why oh why do I stay.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
she
she is a palm leaf
like a thousand drops of water running down the fern
like the pulse that comes from the center
the center that brings her breathless
the ocean is vast
and that which causes me to write in code is supreme
like a thousand drops of water running down the fern
like the pulse that comes from the center
the center that brings her breathless
the ocean is vast
and that which causes me to write in code is supreme
she walks
there were once these everywhere women which i speak of softly and with reverence. there were these everywhere seekers, stalkers of the slate.
they, shell-soft walking through the cool sand,
pass the green waving, blue throwing itself toward them.
ended here wrapped in the blue under the blue,
under the sky and caught between. this is a web,
a tangled perfect
i throw myself into the waves.
they, shell-soft walking through the cool sand,
pass the green waving, blue throwing itself toward them.
ended here wrapped in the blue under the blue,
under the sky and caught between. this is a web,
a tangled perfect
i throw myself into the waves.
there lies
there lies these everywhere women
these everywhere God-seeking beauties
I am Jeanette Winterson and I open my mouth wide
in the circling river over the v at her waist
at the ark in her spine forward
where the water ripples I submerge.
Where on the beaches the sands numbered novels, numbered the
cool whitewashed hands pressing into them words,
pressing into them verbs.
this saddled woman, this shell, this river, this hell,
take away the veil, take away the pain,
remove me from the river,
make me whole again.
these everywhere God-seeking beauties
I am Jeanette Winterson and I open my mouth wide
in the circling river over the v at her waist
at the ark in her spine forward
where the water ripples I submerge.
Where on the beaches the sands numbered novels, numbered the
cool whitewashed hands pressing into them words,
pressing into them verbs.
this saddled woman, this shell, this river, this hell,
take away the veil, take away the pain,
remove me from the river,
make me whole again.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
freedom
i've flown the coop, i'm nesting in a new tree
it's freedom, it's free.
i've taken wing, its all on me
it's freedom, it's free.
there are beautiful swirls
there are beautiful vines
and i stand up tall and i know the strength of my own hands
the world is on my shoulders and i flex my arm and smile
'we can do it'
i am able
i am able
it's freedom, it's free.
i've taken wing, its all on me
it's freedom, it's free.
there are beautiful swirls
there are beautiful vines
and i stand up tall and i know the strength of my own hands
the world is on my shoulders and i flex my arm and smile
'we can do it'
i am able
i am able
amazing grace
this is my haven. stop by if you ever need a haven. xoxo
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