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RescueKnives are meant to go in
Sharp words formed perfectly
Cut from your tongue and teeth as
Closed on my impulse
I always reach for the lures
As you fish for my reaction
I am caught up in your hooks
By all your jagged edges
At the thought of falling grace
And grate my kindness away
Into scattered fragments while
To hoard disappearing time
With stings and barbs prepared
My distraction and are ready
To mock my rescue missions as
With all these broken words
If I want to save people
It is better to be a fire fighter
Because then I will know when
To save endangered love
Still LifeAs a child I studied
The lift of the arm
Above the head
The alignment of elbow and scalp
The set of the shoulders
As the arm lifted
Where the knees line up
The puzzle box bending
When folded against the chest
The legs crossed at the knee
Folded Indian position
Stretched out in front
I learned to trace
The movement of the spine
The neck and the skull
As they moved and shifted
I traced people on the page
Attempted to draw human
Like the image on the page
I imitate life
Try to draw it to myself
Holding myself just so
I stand next to humans
River SongThey are dredging the river,
Bringing up all the sunken things,
Stirring the lid to the river's hidden treasures:
The shit, and muck, and corpses.
The river flows swiftly between the banks,
The artificial shores of concrete and boulders
In the city where you fell.
Down stream the river widens,
The shores are gentle slopes
Tilting softly toward the edge
Where a sudden drop plunges
Earth into water the color of mud.
Trees bend over it, shading the water
Like some idealized painting, pastoral,
Pastel: ignoring the under tow,
The snags hidden by water,
The places where children drown.
They are searching for you,
The men in the boats, the wet suits,
Dragging their ropes along the river's bottom.
They search the known places
The up swells, the catch alls, the places
Where the river surrenders unwanted things.
But the river will keep you, has accepted
What you mistakenly offered,
Embraced you and filled you with itself;
It will hold you long after we forget you.
At a Field in EnnaThe ground broke open
The ground swallowed me because
I took the apple
And the pomegranate seeds
And I ate them
And into the dark I tumbled
With their sweet juices still
Trembling on my tongue
Or was it the marigolds
The begonias, hyacinths, hydrangeas
Snapdragons, peonies, lobelia, all
Tempting me, their faces
Turned toward the sun
While under the earth
Their roots stretched deep
Called out to emptiness
The darkness, black
And echoing, empty of meaning
The dark places resonate
Free from light, from sound, from memory
But filled with this taste and scent
The sweet apple, tart and sharp
The seed, a forgotten promise
The smell of flowers, overpowering
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More