My hands :: A poem

my hands
fascinate me

fingers long and thin like
bones
strings of a harp or wind chimes
floating
at the end of my palm with
stuff
stuck under the nails

pale
like my great-grandmother's hands
though hers are soft and old
mine are young, like spiders

my hands are strong

my hands have had many battles
and are scarred
there is even a finger i can't feel
and sometimes i miss it

my hands are maps
some say they could see my future
but i know they can tell my past
and it is from the past the future is made
it is from hands the future is made

i am my hands
they flicker and grasp
they fumble
twist
twirl
reach
pop
stretch
hit
touch
hold

my hands
fascinate me

I dreamed it was snowy, and I was in love :: A poem

I dreamed it was snowy, and I was in love.
The world was cold and I was warm, not the other way around.
I dreamed my skin felt good on me.
I dreamed the dark sky was lit up with tiny flakes
that graced our glowing faces with kisses
We didn't interact, but I knew we were in love.
And I knew he was right there beside me.
I dreamed it was snowy, and I was in love.

And my mind tmp tmp :: A poem

And my mind is an empty vessel, things going in out in out in out and I am left unoccupied I hear my world going by and it happens. It goes in out and I am left. And in the still of the night, when smallest sounds are hoofbeats I hear my heart beating on off and on off, tmp tmp. tmp tmp. tmp tmp. in and out. tmp tmp. and the snifting sound echoes through the room, the breathing. It rattles through the throat, escaping and plunging into the chest with equal joy. I breathe, tmp tmp, and out, tmp tmp, in and out, tmp tmp, I breathe, tmp tmp. And my self circles its drain, going out with the rest. I am a shell. A shell to be filled, if only for the right life to live in it. Only the right life to take this repetition repetition tmp tmp repetition breathe in tmp tmp, in and out, tmp tmp, rattle out, tmp tmp. The right life to take this and make it a rhythm. The repetition is a rhythm, the rhythm tmp tmp of some life tmp tmp. Let the body be the rhythm breathe in and the soul or the love or the heart tmp tmp be the melody the rattle breathe in melody of strings and metal. Let the body be the rhythm rattle in and the soul be the melody tmp tmp and the mind oh the mind, oh th mind tmp tmp, let the mind be the lyric, the in and out in and out. Let the lyric be pages of pages of gems of a life well lived and a life well spent and a reason for the rhythm and the beauty and the soul. Let the soul be the melody to the body is the rhythm let the mind be the lyric oh be my tmp tmp.