“the slow birth…”

the slow birth

“I Thought of You Today…”

I thought of you today

I thought of you today
I felt that amaranthine rush
and after all this time
the flow began
the slow bleed-out
of good intentions
I missed your eager thrusts
into my mind,
the physicality
of your self-imposed distance,
I missed the arch of  your silence
against my pulse

I wanted you
to be watching
from another room,
your eyes in rapt regard
I wanted you to see me bleed,
just once

“how long shall I carry these words…”


DSCN6728 (11)

How long shall I carry these words
in my mouth
these profane and bitter proclamations
thrusting alongside others,
the ambrosial ones
hived in wildflower honey

How will they fall
when these budded lips
will they eject in a spray
of search and destroy
or trickle out
soaked in vengeful intent

I think I will chew on them
just a little while longer
savor them, suck the venom
right out
then swallow them, deep
their release, hurting no one
but me

“we bared our souls…”

we bared our souls

“beneath the buoyancy…”


Collaboration #3 / 2014



For ~ RP

taught me
he knew

in the center
of that room

each day
a grey-green haze
of expression-threaded

lifted us

gifted us
the ink stains
on the ceiling

I learned
to ignore her

faceless days
shored up
in the corner
pseudo artful

it was easy

to drown out
the spewing
scornful sound
of her dramatic

like kittens
in the bottom
of a bucket

it was always

that she had
to wake
behind that

and I did

© cs moon 2014
Letters to the Moon


fright mask

the wraiths
who wear them

in the places
between walls

© Bauke Kamstra 2014
Positively Wyrde



Don’t disguise your miracles
behind long nights where you lose control,
when you should be seeking
the stories I know you are longing for.

The sweet words you have on pause
should not be kept inside
because the smile lines on your eyes
reflect the brighter ends of you.

I have only known
what was good enough for me,
but in you there is something
worth a whole lot more.

© Hugo Quizhpi 2014


the dark behind the mask
behind the fog
behind the shadows
behind the moon

the light in the crevasses
behind the glare
behind the burn
behind the sun

the frog speaks
the dark grows
until the pond drained

no place to jump

© Gary Blankenship 2014

“writhing on a cotton sea…”

writhing on a cotton sea

Anatomy of a Woman / 10


she told him, pay attention

I’ve enjoyed this series although, this will most likely be the last one, as I’m running out of  body parts I can share. I’m still planning on shooting a masculine series, just as soon as my model volunteers or the one who did volunteer, visits :-)  For those interested, the other 9 in the series are below.


Anatomy of a Woman / 1

Anatomy of a Woman / 2

Anatomy of a Woman / 3

Anatomy of a Woman / 4

Anatomy of a Woman / 5

Anatomy of a Woman / 6

Anatomy of a Woman / 7

Anatomy of a Woman / 8

Anatomy of a Woman / 9

“washed ashore…”

washed ashore1

“as fragile as paper tigers…”

as fragile as paper tigers

“I am your caryatid…”

i am your caryatid

“she cocked her ear and listened…”

she cocked her ear and listened

“she walked away…”

she walked away

” is it his lips…”

is it his lips



between yesterday and tomorrow…

between yesterday and tomorrow

“all the goodbyes…”


“But Don’t Touch”

I lived in one of the tenements,
so loud and confused, the neighborhood
stretched out, scared, skinny,
squinting payback when I creaked open the door.
I just sit in the back now
and we never talk much of today.

I discovered the dark outside,
its hands covering another lie
when I closed my eyes.

I chase all its changing,
kicked in the gut, blood on my chin.
How could I go back?
I closed myself from me.
The feeling of eyes leaning against the inner door,
it’s my way now. A one-way street. Alone

I don’t feel anything.


Title and Poetry ©2014 Joseph Hesch


Late last night, I threw an offer out on Twitter and Facebook for a collaboration. This photograph was speaking volumes to me, but not in a language I understood. My friend Joe Hesch asked to see the photograph and as soon as I sent it to him, he told me he had something already written that might fit. I was blown away when I read it. I call moments like this, serendipity. A fortuitous happenstance of inspiration, colliding. This piece is one in a series of stories he’s written. Joe has been one of my very favorite writers since we first met years ago on Twitter and I’m honored he found my photograph worthy of his words. If you haven’t done so yet, please stop by and read more of Joe’s stories and poetry at A Thing for Words. You’ll also find him on Twitter as @JAHesch.


“my bloom is gone…”

my bloom is gone

“in that glade by the river…”

in that glade by the river

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