Saturday, March 27, 2010

Thursday, March 25, 2010

day 30

what are you really?

you are unreachable, something i still don't understand.

you are antique, but so new.

day 29

the rain makes you so grey
but the moisture darkens your brilliance.

day 28

landscapes so different from home,
speckled with peach puffed trees.

day 27

in the morning in the cobblestone
underneath my feet.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

day 26


day 25

houses painted peach, walls painted with age.

day 24

yellow lights at night illuminate exteriors
bricks, structural and sound.

Monday, March 22, 2010

day 23

peach, i noticed you were barely in my home at all.
antiques, you are everywhere.

day 22

once i was a little girl who loved pink.

Saturday, March 20, 2010

day 21

the intrigue is that it holds time.

day 20

the virgin mary's hands
cracked from the weather
palms out, open.

day 19


Thursday, March 18, 2010

day 18

no specific incident.
how do you tell someone you have had a bad day on their behalf?
this is a dead dull color.

day 17

grandma wears rubber bands around her socks to keep them up.

Monday, March 15, 2010

day 16

puffy eyes in the morning.

Friday, March 12, 2010

day 15

limp worms
on cracking grey sidewalks.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

day 14

overcast skies
grey skies
gray skies

day 13

bursting at the seams.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

day 12

the blanket
resting in the middle of the couch
holding old form

structurally folded in a clean.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

day 11

not today
the sun made everything yellow.

Monday, March 8, 2010

day 10

highway lights
brighten the bones of trees with a fleshy hue.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

day 9

cobblestone streets and bleeding heels.

Friday, March 5, 2010

day 8

grandmas urge to keep.

faded pink slippers in the closet.

day 7

dry hands

sweaty palms.

Monday, March 1, 2010

day 6

the sun
can make your skin reverberate

and then the wind knocks you cold,
its the first of march.

day 5

a warm glow around the moon
not quite full
not at all peach
but warm,
a body in the sky.

Sunday, February 28, 2010

day 4

i felt my cheeks flush all night
i should have known i would come home to find your words.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

day 3

beneath your finger nails,
hands aged 20 years.

day 2

mortar between red brick, after dusk.