ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
June 19, 2009
The afterimage of a relationship, The Berliner by ~fauxgravity focuses on change and distances while giving glimpses of another history.
Featured by SparrowSong
Literature Text
Sick of writing about the pianist,
she leaves for Berlin and makes her
home next to the absence of a wall
She contemplates the American Embassy
and changes her cigarette brand
She sets out walking
and considers percentages of lives,
eats alone, begins to consider meat as flesh,
removes paintings from their frames
and in their place hangs mirrors
Calling home small voiced
she asks after family and friends
politely, washing dishes as she does so,
the phone in the crook of her neck
She makes no friends, does not make love,
resents nothing and leaves no
holes in people's lives
she leaves for Berlin and makes her
home next to the absence of a wall
She contemplates the American Embassy
and changes her cigarette brand
She sets out walking
and considers percentages of lives,
eats alone, begins to consider meat as flesh,
removes paintings from their frames
and in their place hangs mirrors
Calling home small voiced
she asks after family and friends
politely, washing dishes as she does so,
the phone in the crook of her neck
She makes no friends, does not make love,
resents nothing and leaves no
holes in people's lives
Literature
avifauna villa
his feet are bare and open
herringbones of pentecostal bracken
like two birds frozen in the nest;
a nametag is lashed upon his breast,
wilderness homely and pure,
his praline token unsung
as he works it like a moat
churning honey pinwheels
that hibernate between inlets
in the heads of children.
names turn their faces, like the shaken joy
of turtle dove couplets.
only subsidiary bodies-
pebbles shamed into the grey-belly well
like beasts with bloody noses
can keep from sinking
from his geometry of words,
steely discuses oxidizing on the tongue
Literature
Farmers' Market
Farmers' Market
At daybreak, we make our aching bodies rise,
caffeinate, survey the still pink-patched sky,
pray for a dry day. Once loaded, we truck
bushels of produce, potted plants, sawhorse
and board tables, stabilize crates of pie
between bins and strawberry boxes, drive
down the mountain, into town and set up
the fruits of our labors, hoping neighbors
and weekenders alike will buy, eyeing
vendors wares, wishing there was cash to spare.
Down-street, a bow begins to sweep the strings
softly, bringing bed-headed children out
to watch the band set up. An old pup roves
over to the barbeque cart, gambols
off when the butcher
Literature
Field Notes
.
I: Insecta
I snap: a sling-shot
of sinew, tendons whipped
to joints that buckle in lines as cleanly creased
as an origami crane. Poised on a tripod of paper tips,
I anticipate the wind but there is only steel
shearing bone and then it all unfolds
with a scritch-scratch and tickle
of segmented limbs sprouting,
barbed as berry-canes.
II: Hymenoptera
My skin
once fed on your skin;
sipped at honeyed pores
with a thousand tiny, hollow tongue
Suggested Collections
//
© 2009 - 2024 fauxgravity
Comments45
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
This didn't grab me at all until the last three lines, but then I went back and read it again. I've known (and been) this person before.