CPoetry

how can it be to feel the fear of the gazelle, and too, the hunger of the lion? kill or be killed, i fear my longing has spent too much time out in the open, while being one step from pouncing out of impatience to end the life of a love disguised as the landscape around me.      if there is a moment to cease,      my longing will graze,      and my hunger will go elsewhere.      i will yet again become a part      of the landscape. ::: with You, my love will never change. ice, water, or vapor, this love will only change its form; dense down on You, fluid upon Your lips, fully encompassing Your dreams. dense upon Your fears, fluid circling Your scars, fully surrounding Your nightmares. dense for our daring, fluid through our mistakes, fully overcoming our challenges. at the center of it all, may it be dense in character, fluid in experience, and vaporous in feeling. our love will only change its form.

act 1 scene 2: from the nightstand you retrieve a Bible and flip back and forth through its pages. i ask, what's your favorite verse? ---barely projecting my question over the cotton-wall of a bleached white pillow. "Isaiah forty-one-thirteen." i ask, why? ---then my mouth hides behind the cotton-wall, to which you give your answer. i ask, what are you currently reading about? ---again, i retreat behind the cotton-wall. you give your answer. (i feel childish. as if a consequence follows my mistake); there is to be no talking inside a place of worship. ::: act 1 scene 3: and in that moment i saw how beautifully vulnerable you were. no part of my body moved. not a hand, not a leg, not a shoulder, nor a single finger. although, my eyes did move; they moved from your eyes to the black ink etched across the tendons on the inside of your wrist: It is well... and

exist as a lightning bolt; strike quickly. strike fervently. strike purposefully through the far reaches of the hollow stomach of the sky--- to the brightest degree you allow. ::: our gift of living is as insignificant as a blink of lightning; our gift of living, augmented by the life of our contributions, rolls and tumbles like a boulder-avalanche of thunder. ::: She stood before the crowd and said, "Today, I stand between the shoulders of men. I am smaller in stature. I am am shorter in height. My voice is higher in pitch upon delivery. I am suppressed from the the edge of my skin to the schemas of my womanhood. Today, I stand between the shoulders of men. I am smaller in stature. I am shorter in height. My voice is higher in pitch upon delivery. I have not put myself in between but at the center of a truth which no longer can be suppressed. Today, I stand in the center of the shoulders of men.

and then i abandoned the virtuous life. i threw my used cigarette on the sidewalk of complacency. stepped away from the edge of the cliff only to get a running start and jump off! i welcomed the conman of my emotions. i shared the tip with my desires, and let them drive me home. i fiddled my keys at the door with The Wild... at the door of my values--- of which i wanted to abandon so much just then! i felt it to be in that moment, my civic duty, to rebel. to rebel against all that held my consciousness in place; and for that moment, i would be dangerously free. ::: the objective of treating others well is not a requirement for the prestige of one's character; it is a prerequisite of one's character which garners no prestige at any time; true character cultivates prestige in the character of another. ::: "have you tried chocolate milk and mash potatoes together? i