[x]

a hospital bird with soot in her lungsshe slept through a car crash
that almost killed her,
through whitewhite walls
and dreams
where her lover dies
nobody thought she'd make it
but she woke up a few months later
with flowers in her hair
and ash in her airway
trying to remember how to start all over
but forgetting to remember how to live.
fall slipped from her open eyes
and winter crawled in for a long hibernation
of not-quite-cold-enough-for-snow
to her the clouds looked sick
and pale like they might
let everything inside them out,
but she opened up wide instead,
spilling blood where there was none to be spilled.
her heart slipped down the street
and with unsteady hands
she stitched in a bird and cut off its wings.

beta physicsi.
the rain wrapped impatience around your roof,
bored through the wood like a thousand million termites
(or one you-sized termite, blind, breathless)
and seeped from the cold clockwork like battery acid.

ii.
you lived in a widow's closet -

a house swarmed with antiques
that collapsed in their own gravity
and combusted -

and then you lived in widow's charcoal.

iii.
"galaxies are either lovers or termites," she mused.

(earlier, her fingernails bored into my back
Hubble's thousand million stars, all drops of acid
branding my spine.)

"they are drawn to each other for years
and in an instant, once together,
eat themselves alive.

Sky EyesDesert hands tell tales
of a hundred arid summers, but
you are no longer as cloudless as they

(there is a storm
creeping through blue, blue veins).

But tell the sky to keep her sorrow,
that grey cascade blurring against
eyelids and horizons;

and suppress her misbegotten
droplets, seeping into the sodden
ground underfoot—

for there is still sun in your sky eyes.

Crows"Crows," I whisper and she flies,
brown arrow shot
from the bowstring of a word.

seven minutes.7.
time's hands on my eyes
i swim in a sea of black
guided by instinct

6.
i was only three
when my mother told me that
lives could be taken

5.
the first time i loved
i wore my heart on my cheeks
( he called me rosy )

4.
i left school to write
and serve coffee to truckers
who tipped me in books

3.
i married in rome
and waltzed in barcelona
before i went broke

2.
why we had two kids
i cannot even explain
but they were my words

1.
when i was eighty
my story flew off the press
and i flew with it

0.
death kissed my forehead
and peeled back time's fingertips
"welcome home, my child"

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Vanilla I brushed the air with my fingertips, soft. I felt it beneath me as I flew. My toes tapped the ground, first right foot, then left, and I was floating again. I felt you next to me, and let my toes stutter to a walk, like spinning. I pulled my phone out of my tight girl-pants pocket, but I didn't look at it. The moment I did, I knew the world would disappear for a bit, and I wasn't done looking. I knew you were waiting for me, though, so I closed my eyes and slid the phone open, pushing the right buttons to unlock your message. I held up the phone and peeked a look.

Gamma RadioI traveled to Jupiter once.
I fell down dizzy in the cockpit
as it's speeding colors blew my mind
and I didn't make it back to earth
for forty blue days and nights.

After I had landed,
I couldn't stop inhaling the sun.
I'd pull my feet out of the gaudy tiles
but I could never truly walk away
from those streaming particles
and their mirrored twins.

It had occurred to me, way up in the sky
that everything is beautiful.
Not all of it will take away my eyes and years
quite like a whirling death storm
in the deepest night.

But some will,
with an even higher satisfaction rating.

It was quite possibly the first time
that I had e

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Submitted: June 12, 2011
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The Windby ~mel-face

Literature / Poetry / Human Nature / Visual & Found Poetry

©2011-2013 ~mel-face

^{This one was super fun to draw all the swirls, and I'm really happy with how it came out.

Word order as follows:
We learn, as a child, to feel
the wind,
And exist in consciousness,
remembering our lost moments.

---
Taken from The Seven Whispers by Christina Baldwin.}

Daily Deviation

Given 2012-06-11

The Wind by ~mel-face A gorgeous example of both visual and found poetry. ( Suggested by =LadyofGaerdon and Featured by ^Beccalicious )

~~mad 0 0~~

~~fear 0 0~~

~~neutral 0 0~~

~jameth15 Jan 23, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

Wicked cool!

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~mel-face Jan 24, 2013 Hobbyist

^{Thank you!}

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Mood: Love

~HoneyBadger12 Dec 5, 2012 Hobbyist Artist

This is beautiful

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~mel-face Dec 6, 2012 Hobbyist

^{Thank you!}

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Mood: Love

~ArethusaVespera Nov 2, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

Woah. This is really beautiful!

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~mel-face Nov 2, 2012 Hobbyist

^{Thank you so much! <3}

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~ArethusaVespera Nov 3, 2012 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

You're welcome!

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!fictionalnostalgia Jul 17, 2012 Student General Artist

wow.

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~mel-face Jul 17, 2012 Hobbyist

^C:

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~Rho-Dee-Oh Jul 7, 2012 Professional Traditional Artist

This is a very creative and poetic altered book.

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