| Like an eyebrow (Caterpillar and Alice Part ?) |
Feb 2, 2008 1:32 pm
1920 Views |  | The weeds tugged at Alice's low-slung apron as she bent beneath Mushroom to retrieve the ring. All day she had lain worried, in repose atop the fungus, wondering where the blasted ring had gotten to.
" 'Ave you got it there, darlin'?" Caterpillar croaked out his lazy concern. More and more these days his voice, lungs, even his many legs seemed to have fatigued under years of smoking hookah. Caterpillar coughed for emphasis. "I'd come down there and help, but...you know I'd just get in the way."
Alice huffed. She hadn't seen the ring in ages, maybe even a year and it wasn't where she had left it, in her grandmother's ivory ring box, nestled in its cushion of velvet blue. "Sh!t, Cat. I think the girl was here again. She's always rearranging and borrowing and leaving behind some dull beaded bauble to replace my things."
"Never mind it, then, dearie. I owe you a ring as it is." His eyes crinkled down over Mushroom, watching Alice's every move. He was hungry like a caterpillar. Hungry for Alice and her curtain of skin, her long arms and seamless legs which could grow in an instant to enfold him, suddenly longer than he, suddenly stronger. He pressed firmly nearer to Mushroom, who sagged heavily in response.
"Cat, there's none like this one - you know it. Engraved. Charm." Her voice caught on the midwinter wind and blew away toward the deepening forest. Alice turned her head to listen. Only she could hear the sound of her words as they gently pushed off into the night.
She stepped toward the path, her shoes crackling against frosted stalks. Body followed legs, every bristle of her aware of the voices urging her forward. The ring...they called.
"Aaaaa-liiiice?" Caterpillar furrowed like an eyebrow, his body rearranged into a question mark. "Aaaaaaaaaaa-liiiiiice.....? |
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12 Comments | |
| The armless caterpillar |
Feb 1, 2008 4:16 pm
1969 Views | Caterpillar remained motionless, a swirl of browns and greens encompassing Alice's small frame. "Soup." He was careful to enunciate clearly.
"Alice. I never made you any soup. What was that...hmmm...I remember a chicken something, though." He bristled slightly in the cool and uneven air of nightfall.
Alice stretched against Caterpillar's long and tenuous frame. "Well, whatever it was, I do remember it was rather a bit spicy, Cat. You know I don't do spicy well."
"Ah...that'd be the British in you, then. You always did imagine yourself shelved away in some dark and dreamy castle, cold to the bone." Cat sighed.
Alice crooked her slender neck, peered through her bangs, long glossed and white-blond. "I never did imagine it, Cat. Some things we can just see, through time, maybe back, maybe forward. I can still feel the chill of stone walls." She drew her legs around him, tighter now, nestled there.
"Ah...Alice." Not for the first time, Cat wished he had arms in which he could ensnare her. "Alice. You've always lived in a fairy tale, haven't you?"
Tighter now, legs pulling him closer, closer until their bodies were fluent.
"Fairy tale? Oh, heaven's no." Her hair now fell in a swoop, tenting them both. She leaned over him.
"Genres, dear Cat, are for the weak of heart." | |
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10 Comments | |
| What am I doing? |
Feb 1, 2008 7:39 am
1562 Views |  | Eating cheerios. Watching the ice pile up. Falling into the sublime. Falling. Missing my best friend...missing moments.
I remember one night - a Saturday I think. Early on. And I was sitting on my staircase for hours talking on the phone, hearing the distant music in his background, and everything changed. The lights in my home were softer and a bit glittery. I didn't want to move...didn't ever want to stop talking. Even our silences were full and comfortable. And I remember thinking, this moment is once. Don't fall in the trap of thinking this is the first...no, this moment is only. Only. But, you are lucky for it.
And I tucked it in my pocket, somehow managing to make it fit. Because it's still here. On the stairs. In the air of my house - air that hasn't completely re-circulated. In thoughts that tumble randomly out, now, on this icy day as I do more than remember.
There now. Let's get you safely back in my pocket. |
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6 Comments | |
| Not finished |
Jan 31, 2008 7:27 pm
1356 Views | This poem is a work in progress...
let me know what you think.
Please
****************************
I am tricked into the sublime
and each time the heaviness
outweighs me
like a slanted tree bending
from the sun
in proud green reverie
burnished and burning
I recline
This favor is a forest
come alive
in footfalls
gathered
on a living floor
in stances
planned to hide me
from before | |
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2 Comments | |
| Sitting mushroom-top |
Jan 30, 2008 5:35 pm
1428 Views |  | "Alice?" Caterpillar's head lunged rather than swiveled as he angled toward her.
"Hmmmm...?" Alice was distracted, sitting mushroom-top, pleating and un-pleating her apron, now grown yellow with age and deforestation. "hmmm...Cat?"
"I was thinking...humm...I was thinking about that time {{{yawn}}} remember? You went off and left me? Gawd, that was eons ago." Alice didn't answer. "Mushroom remembers. Don't you Mushroom?" The leather whithers that had long since ripened on Mushroom's stalk trembled humbly beneath Cat's pat.
"Oh, Alice, come now. I'm just making small talk. Leave the skirt, dear. Come and have a cuddle."
"I was only thinking, Alice dear, of how you never really left. No. Not really. You were here all along. With me. Weren't you? You were." Caterpillar curled himself around the woman he had known for what seemed like a lifetime. Her hair now grown silver and white, her hands graceful in their decay: a girl's body trapped forever in time.
"Cat." Ever doleful, Alice finally lifted her head from her knees and looked out, eyes cartoon-blue. Eyes only for Caterpillar.
"Cat. I just got back. I'm tired. I'm not the girl I used to be, you know." Her toes now stretched a stockinged arrow across mushroom. "And besides...what the hell did you put in that soup anyway?" |
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12 Comments | |
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| Stupid attempt at song lyrics... |
Jan 29, 2008 6:56 pm
1354 Views |  | There's not much here yet.
Let me know what you think.
I totally ripped off the melody
from a song that I just can't
get outta my head.
Can you guess which one?
*****************
I’ve got that sad song
Stuck into my head again
It moves on and on
With the whir of concrete underglow.
It’s our melody
As it wraps my fingers
Tighter now.
And with each line
I press faster
Than the one before.
This is the white ease
And it curls around me quietly.
This is the long run
Running ever farther out. |
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8 Comments | |
| such a crappy blogger |
Jan 27, 2008 5:33 pm
1542 Views |  | I'm such a crappy blogger. I only answer comments these days when I want to post something new. And then I make my rounds because, well, if I don't, no one will visit me. So very, very lame of me. But I do miss being here and I've also realized that while I love to write just about anything, I never just write write on my blog. Like this. And I like that, too. Even if I have nothing, something always spills out.
There's some shift going on with me. Spring is coming too early. We should all be scared and yet still there is love and searching for love and dancing and music and friendship and then again. Still. There are styrofoam peanuts and brand new stereos on the curb and lots and lots and lots of still good food in the garbage. And $3.32 at the pump.
I wish I could be the person who could reclude (new word)and soul-journey. Or whatever...be quiet for a purpose. Know what I mean? Wait. No, I want to be completely self-less and find a purpose. Even if it's a noisy one.
I once went to a Wiccan celebration (can't remember which one) and we generated a collective energy to send into the earth.
Do you feel closer to people now? It's as if there can be no worries once our greatest fear is realized. So.
Why not stop worrying now?
I don't need anything new. Do you?
I will survive without "it."
Heck, my neighbors will even survive me without my "it." |
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18 Comments | |
| Fluff |
Jan 24, 2008 6:35 pm
1225 Views |  | I want to write.
Yet I do not
change my ways.
I cannot take root anywhere.
Like dandelion fluff
on a thin wish,
I disappear.
I want to write
and
instead
I play progressions,
no lyrics,
just
transposed inventions. |
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25 Comments | |
| Holiday gift |
Jan 22, 2008 6:58 pm
1052 Views | I am left with just those words from before.
What if you know...what if they are the only words you know? Words wrapped as ribbons I tie around a holiday gift.
One ribbon in one hundred curls expertly at scissors end. | |
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4 Comments | |
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