don't hold yourself like that
you'll hurt your knees
i kissed your mouth and back
but that's all i need
don't build your world around volcanoes melt you down
what i am to you is not real
what i am to you you do not need
what i am to you is not what you mean to me
you give me miles and miles of mountains
and i'll ask for the sea
don't throw yourself like that
in front of me
i kissed your mouth your back
is that all you need?
don't drag my love around volcanoes melt me down
what i am to you is not real
what i am to you you do not need
what i am to you is not what you mean to me
you give me miles and miles of mountains
and i'll ask for what i give to you
is just what i'm going through
this is nothing new
no just another phase of finding what i really need
is what makes me bleed
and like a new disease she's still too young to treat
volcanoes melt me down
she's still too young
i kissed your mouth
you do not need me
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
Mother says...
Just be friends with everyone. You're so young. You should meet people. Be careful and keep a distance or you might get burned. Blablabla...
Can I do it?
Can I do it?
Saturday, February 9, 2008
From Blossoms - Li-Young Lee
From blossoms comes
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the joy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches
From laden boughs, from hands
from sweet fellowship in the bins
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat
oh to take what we love inside
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of a peach
there are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom
this brown paper bag of peaches
we bought from the joy
at the bend in the road where we turned toward
signs painted Peaches
From laden boughs, from hands
from sweet fellowship in the bins
comes nectar at the roadside, succulent
peaches we devour, dusty skin and all,
comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat
oh to take what we love inside
to carry within us an orchard, to eat
not only the skin, but the shade
not only the sugar, but the days, to hold
the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into
the round jubilance of a peach
there are days we live
as if death were nowhere
in the background; from joy
to joy to joy, from wing to wing,
from blossom to blossom to
impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom
Friday, February 1, 2008
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