The Zooffice Episode 13: Down Time

The Source

I've written towards cornering you into some abysmally dark space, much like pushing a pearl into the depths of the universe. When it was I who was out of place.. was.. is.. even just the word "place" is such a burden upon the mind; how the multitude of meaning surrounds the snake-like sound sneaking between one's teeth, the word, an escape from responsibility: not my, the wrong, too much trust was, there isn't a. And I hope you know, you're beautiful. It was that I found myself in your perspective of me, whatever became of my reflection inside of your vanity, its frame of organic polymers smoothing the edges. But it couldn't sooth mine and reflected them your way instead; only they were razor-edged and laid across the blankets and pillows where you lay your head: a place where I thought I found you and I both, but was mistaken. It was only again, my reflection.

Could Do Better

i persist,
and the intent, so it be,
refashions.
in this place
zeal is little
more
than a color;
a mix
of beryl
and blue,
or maybe maroon,
when this place
becomes
another space
for a
fashion room.

Thole

From the faucet, a droplet.
I cupped my fingertips together
supposing I could accomodate
a body fluid and cold, wet.
Go and it goes. Push tighter
and it goes. My palms overlap,
it goes. Soluble -my skin,
the soap, and within, my soul.

After the Other

There is always someone else.

Before or after, the wind at the back door,
banter go the branches, a blackened chatter
where the moon watches over, glowing.

That man is laughter. That man is your lighter
when you need nothing else but fire. Collider,
they called her, whenever she would bring
a steady face to dinner -pretty she would say.

After or before, the glass and its watery core,
firm sugar, stored in its center, the ice carrier,
mine and yours, lips like lemon rind pores.

There is always someone else.

The Zooffice Episode 12: Zoobooking!

The Zooffice Episode 11: The gift That Keeps On Giving