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I don't do a whole lot of features, but there have been some things popping up on my watch list over the last few months that have really taken me by storm. Timely, perhaps not. But here are some of the works that have made me sniffle, giggle, grimace, sigh and feel lately, and recent or not, you should still read them.

Mature Content

ZemiThings having to be returned to their transparency:
       i.
       / green mist-earth / knit
        atmosphere / fathomless
        blue-lavender / lights
        spun out from light
        ii.
        are recalcitrance / and you
        are convergence
     & - a fingernail of summer
        - a melting of rain
        - a crown of flowers
        - a priest of sunsets
(beautiful? I love you, because. Zemi.
Zemi. are you beautiful because I love
you? Zemi?                                   )
       iii.
       I imagine this is what it's like to breathe sea foam
       over the Cliffs of Moher: hydration. absolution.
       To Rilke, it's a melody that floods over us
       when we have forgotten how to listen for it.
       I never could forget this: for how could I know
       my hand as both well and chasm? and how could I know
       time, a windstruck dimension, standing in her white street?
       iv.
       We go on morning walks and Zemi
       laughs at everything I say.

Vishnui. (matsya - fish)
in the beginning, there was silver;
mercury inscribing cuneiform
beneath the bloodwork of your skewed scales,
scrawling preserver
throughout salt-drenched lungs.
and you laced clear planets into your slipstream,
wrapped solar systems in translucence.
ignoring all the shattered galaxies. ignoring
how easily their frail orbits
broke.
ii. (kurma - turtle)
your ribcage screamed a shattered warcry
of not-quite-god and less-than-human;
a shark's-tooth carapace crushed in.  
forgotten names clawed out your sternum.
your spine fused into your biting back.
iii. (varaha - boar)
razor-wireless shrieked of true tales
thieved by midnight's neon-tripped true bones.
gunshot eyelids half-horizon,
you rose, arpeggio
of stop.
iv. (narasimha – half-man, half-lion)
he walked like christian gods on holy
breaking waves of children's bowed backs.
a crooked tooth inside you turned,
crucified his smug steel-gray blue.
v. (vamana - dwarf)
eras of electrons scratched
themselves into your heels
Stories of feelings with no names    i.
    The feeling you get the day after sending a letter, and you know there is no possible way that the recipient has received your message, let alone formulated time to write a reply. You still get just a little hopeful when you hear the mailman drive by. You rush out to the postbox a little too quickly and are disappointed by the pile of free coupons, bills, charity flyers, and a late Christmas card from Grandma Moses.
    ii.
    A sudden awareness that occurs during funerals that you are going to die. You are dying right now – your cells are shedding like snakeskin scales and your hair is turning silver and every moment is one less than before. You will never know which moment is the last one because you won’t be around to count the grains in your hourglass– and, somehow, this knowledge both sharpens and dulls the grief of saying goodbye, like a blade that loses all effectiveness once it’s already
The Separation of Church and StateI want to know
more
about what curls the edges
of lips
concave
if I am to be kept, in fear
grains, stuck to the sides
of our glass prophecies.
I have been
too long in the barrel,
drenched in flavors of the oak and clove
and other notes of optimism;
(and I know)
I will have to come
to terms less favorable
before the end can turn
us on our head, for another
go around.
One hand ticks, slower
than the other.
Or maybe

a simple truth has seeped
into places unintended, and made
the leaves bitter, clouded
steeped for longer
than a tongue should have to wait.

The ExclusiveCelebSmackTawk.com
Jan 17 2013
Famous author Giselle Paige shoots lover: "he chewed too loudly and kept looking over my shoulder while I wrote."

Shocking news smacktawkers! It's being reported that beloved author of best sellers Midnight Stalker, Tarnished Hero & No Me Without You has shot and killed her lover, twenty five year model, actor and musician Ryan Sleek.
Agnes B. Zibody, Giselle's neighbor and longtime nemesis is said to have called the police after hearing repeated sounds of gunfire coming from the author's three-storey mansion in the early hours between two and three am. When the police finally showed up at around 5am to question Miss Paige, she calmly admitted to the crime but claims to have acted in self-defense. Sleek was found naked in the bathtub, his well-muscled, tattooed body riddled with bullet holes. Miss Paige was subsequently arrested and taken into custody. According to our source, the quote above was given to police while in custody.
Longtime readers


Go give them some love; they deserve it.

© 2013 - 2024 scatteredwords
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disrhythmic's avatar
Thank you so much! :D