Sta.sh
| eternity is set in her eyes, throwing sparks back at the world that will never die. -"my little phoenix," tarja turunen |
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| eternity is set in her eyes, throwing sparks back at the world that will never die. -"my little phoenix," tarja turunen |
sparks In the winter I hide, weak,sparks by ~videotaped
like a turtle.
I poke my head out of my shell,
and let the world batter me
until I retreat, cowed, afraid.
Oh, to be a bear,
who knows his weakness
and is strong enough
to avoid it,
who sleeps through the darkest months
and emerges alive.
-
Through the winter I wait.
Flip off the switch and walk
through thin hallways
until I emerge at the other end,
spent and unsure,
my feet soft from socks,
my skin pale from fluorescents.
I emerge a caterpillar,
small, unsure, creeping
across railroad tracks and parking lots
until I trust myself
and lie, bare-armed and –legged
in the grass,
smell
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Frustrated 
| still she haunts me phantomwise, alice moving under skies, never seen by waking eyes: in a wonderland she lies. |
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