My name is Casey

Like Most Revelations

It is the movement that incites the form,
discovered as a downward rapture--yes,
it is the movement that delights the form,
sustained by its own velocity.And yet

it is the movement that delays the form
while darkness slows and encumbers; in fact
it is the movement that betrays the form,
baffled in such toils of ease, until

it is the movement that deceives the form,
beguiling our attention--we supposed
it is the movement that achieves the form.
Were we mistaken? What does it matter if

it is the movement that negates the form?
Even though we give (give up) ourselves
to this mortal process of continuing,
it is the movement that creates the form.

Richard Howard


You turn to me with frozen lips
Your hands are icy cold
Your eyes burn bright against the frostbit sky
You never seemed more lovely than you do tonight
Pale on the horizon,
Like leaves frozen on the snow
Our two shadows merge inseperably
And time stands still as its pierced with cold

The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you

There's a warmth in my heart
That haunts me when you're gone
Mend me to your side,
Never let go
So time knows nothing
We'll never grow cold
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
I love you
Twilight descends on our silhouette
How soon spring comes
How soon spring forgets
I wanna hold time, say it'll never begin
Old man winter, be our friend
Old man winter, be our friend
The more I live
The more I know
What's simple is true
What's simple is true
I love you
I love you

designed by jo naz

Monday, December 06, 2004

 

These images have washed through my mind
Time and time again
Blurring; Mimicking of reality
Fades to abstracted similes.
Your lips, a paintbrush upon pale skin
Blushes of lusty red swirling into cool white
Painting wet on wet
Want on desire
And diffusing in quiet spiderwebs
Growing with the heat of covetous breath
Rising to meet the source of life
And falling with the biorhythmical patterns
Of deprivation and repletion
Pulsating and throbbing with the internal pounding
Growing, immersing flesh and mind
Short shallow breaths
Dripping pigments mixing together
Fading, painting skin against skin
Grasping, pulling, urging the colors onward
Inducing the masterpiece to culmination
Consuming the canvas in still wet hues
To allow a moment to admire

I love you |5:31 PM