There is a fragility in this
life. This whole feet on
the ground and time passing
by and the wind in your hair
thing. I remember it once felt
solid, like a well built
bridge. But now I see
there are flaws in the design.Wings are brittle things—
beautiful patterns in powder
easily smudged or pecked by hungry
birds. Lost battles that leave us flexing
and relaxing, flexing and relaxing,
on wintry morning pavement.And I would have spared us this,
my love. I would have found a high
branch for us, or deep grass, or
a pocket in your over-sized
shirt. I would have stayed asleep
holding your hand on my pillow—
my steady guardian at
the mouth of the cave.Alas, we cannot bend
space, and we cannot turn back
time. If we could, I would
fold heaven and earth into
a clumsy paper airplane that
we could hurl at light speed
around the sun. We'd build a
suit of armor out of our desire.
You would vibrate
inside of me, while
your endless song fills
my naked need.—Excerpt from "Before the Fall" by Keith Woo, as it appears in "The Heavy Work of Vanishing: The Collected Poetry of Keith Woo," edited by Pi'ilani Kilani, page 241.
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The Last Handful of Clover - Book 2: Gifts Both Light and Dark
HorrorTHREE DAYS AFTER HE WAS MURDERED, RICHARD PRATT BEGAN TO FEEL MUCH BETTER... A seemingly random act of violence propels Professor Richard Pratt into The Hereafter. It is a strange, muted, netherworld of the dead-a world in which he is forced to bear...