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  . .   . . .    . .    . .    . .
 .   .   .   .  .   .  .   .  .   .                 "Summore"
 .   .   .   .  .   .  .   .  .   .
  . . .  .   .   . . .  . . .  . . .               by X-tabai


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 futility

 life is my empty cupped
 hands&time is measured in
 teardrops on my chin
 saltpain stinging my heart
 gasping into open wounds
 bitter cleansing baptism
 i am dying piece by piece
 giving myself away to
 whoever will take me
 and in the end i will be
 a grinning hole in space
 free from accountability
 unable to think or care
 about whether or not i
 matter to someanybody
 unable to dream or desire
 or breathe or blink tears
 from my frayed away eyes


 Naturalism

 how many carefulslow&
 feverquick times have
 pen&paper tried to pin down
 nature like a fragilesoft
 butterfly.how many words
 sprung around sunrises or
 trees,brittle cages made
 to fail;for nature is beyond
 bars or boxes,steel shudders
 of poetic admiration or
 snares of prose.nature is
 unbounded simplicity&words
 are the muddy reflection of
 her slightest smile


 Will You
 
 to you i sing of
 cornflowerblue memory
 wispy strains of
 eyelashes brushing bare flesh
 fingertips folding into
 long-remembered wrinkles
 roads always taken by
 a solitary traveler
 i sing of yawning
 light, half-lidded dawn
 a strange species who
 splits into two pairs
 of limbs, albeit slowly
 even reluctantly, and
 lives as one in two parts
 (perhaps not so strange)
 i sing of a silence
 broken by shared smiles
 strands of breath holding
 careful wisdom, suspended
 by maybestrong hopes
 and spiderthin dreams
 my lips, my voice, my love
 will you sing with me?

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  .           anada 197                    by X-tabai  (c)2000 anada e'zine .
      
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