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AAM 12: UntitledIt's less crush than curiosity since I can't feel the Sydney sunAAM 12: Untitled
setting me aflame in days of iridescent skin.
I don't recall sweat
on your soft brow or discomfort in your skin just the pervasive silence of a man alone with heavier things than birthday cake (gentle contemplation at dusk).
Some part of you
whispers prayers in the wind on secular afternoons,
in footfalls
dashed across busy highways. Some part believes in salvation
for both of us.
by ~echo-si
AAM 11: Were You MatisseWere you Matisse you'd paint skinny girls and politicians in the curtained wings of my one-woman show, your palette knife suggestingAAM 11: Were You Matisse
more than two dimensions.
My skin
would be subtle hues
of fire and sadness in flat strokes, the layers of a girl who whispers prayers to the Southern Cross from the foot of her godless bed.
Despite this you believe in my
tired-eyed trickle lingering over the sink pink rubber gloved at the height of the party; you'd paint shadows beneath my eyes,
blue stains of hesitation glimpsed through
by ~echo-si
AAM 8: This Quiet MarchingYou told me pick your battles and, pointing, to leave the restAAM 8: This Quiet Marching
piled on the patio
with the shoes and the dust of mud-summer days
I repeated your advice to my students with conviction as they perfected their emo pouts and flipped
their straightened hair; this space is for mx + b, for pencil-in-hand and chalk dust at day’s end
and I wonder how they managed the task in the turmoil of late morning, sun taunting through the blinds
Once, wars were fought in the pockets of my jeans, in the tops of ill-fitting bras, the single earring I never took off
by ~echo-si
Random Favourites
For echo-siby ~suppai
He ishe is the grass swaying breezewheat willow-bean the peacepipe smoke gray-green dancing in the synapse between arizona and godHe is
he is the bitter root the healing leaf bloody nectar of a forgotten people spilt on speckled soil and lapped hungrilt from terra cotta red and salty
he is the marrow of water infusing the optic reticulum with genseng and glucose he is the snapping nerve the vena cava aneurysm trembling alongside a single glistening blade of consciousness
he is m
by ~acuras-suck
SO!
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: revolution earth
- Interests: environmental conservation
- Favourite movie: Hudson Hawk, Nausicaa
- Favourite band or musician: midnight oil, u2, xtc, bjork, belly
- Favourite genre of music: college rock
- Favourite artist: monet, gaia
- Favourite poet or writer: william blake, e.e. cummings & ginsberg
- MP3 player of choice: u2 i-pod
- Shell of choice: Pink sea shells from Tobago beaches
- Skin of choice: Height of summer, age 12
- Favourite game: tag; soccer
- Favourite gaming platform: "exchange rates cannot curb my passion for you" Amy
- Favourite cartoon character: Bubbles
- Personal Quote: "violence is the last refuge of the incompetent" Asimov
- Tools of the Trade: ink, paint, grass between my toes
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**art requires an open mind**
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It matters not who you love, where you love, why you love, when you love, or how you love. It only matters that you love. ~John Lennon
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By my honor, I shall protect with my blade, sooth with my harp, and record with my quill.
Hooray us!
(beautiful and unique snowflakes...)
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