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I’m doing formatting for my upcoming volume of poetry titled Talking to the Sky. I collected all of my poems from 2013. The poem Sometimes/Words was among them, but it wasn’t written in 2013, so it gets cut. I wrote it several years ago, I would say 2009
So I’m going to share it with all of you. Stay tuned for more info on what Talking to the Sky is all about.
Enjoy!
i
Sometimes
I steep myself in the words of another
Letting the words rush over me
Around me
In a protective embrace
Consonants harsh and sharp
Scrape along my skin
Vowels soft and yielding
Caress my tired body
ii
I open a book
Any book will do
I feel its pages rife with wisdom
As they slide between my fingers
Slick and wet
Black like oil spills
Across a white expanse
Just begging to bleed
Begging to bleed out the words
So that they can be free
iii
When I am sleeping
I can hear the words
The vowels whispering sweet nothing
The consonants jeering and cheering
Whispering Sweet Whispering
Begging me to look upon them
To open a book
To set them free
To let my eyes look upon them
So that they are given life
iv
I wake
I go to the books
Trying to quiet them
Before they wake the others
Before they wake their dreams
I stroke their spines
To settle them
And listen to their pages
Ruffle Shuffle Rustle
Whispering their words
Like a song or tribal melody.
v
I take down a book from the shelf
A big heavy book
A thick volume, pages
smell of dust and wishes.
I open the book to a random page
Ruffle Shuffle Rustle Whisper
“I do so love tea parties.”
Blond girl down the rabbit hole
“Why is a raven like a writing desk?”
A mad cackle from the man in a hat
I close the book, let the pages talk once more
Whisper Rustle Listen Hustle
vi
I look for another book
Try to find another story to lose myself in
I find a slim book
A thin book of dreams
Wiffle Whisper Muffle Wister
I remember him as if it were yesterday
Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest-
Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!
The Black Spot! It’s the Black Spot!
No, this will not do at all
I close the book, listening for the gossip
Whisper Sister Ruffle Hustle
vii
I search for another book
Like a treasure hunt X marks the spot
I look for another life
To hold in my hands
To feel the ink that slides along the pages
Pulse in my hands
Like a heartbeat
Pulse Throb Beat Pulse Throb Beat
I long to lose myself in the pages
To hide from the light
The bright light that blinds me
Inside the page of books
I am free
viii
I reach for a book
For another life
One with a green spine
I can feel the ink
Throb Beat Pulse
When I hold it, can feel the words
Whisper Muffle Wuffle Rustle
When I flip the book open
Striking red head with freckles
“I am Anne with an e”
I feel something stirring in my heart for this girl
“Can I really stay at Green Gables?”
Yes this will do nicely
I let the pages flip and slip so that they can talk
So that I can hear their gossip
Whisper Sister Muffle Wustle
Rustle Wuffle Whisper Mister
Whisper Whisper Whisper Whisper
ix
I want to stay
Within these pages
These words that
Pulse Throb Beat
Before my eyes
I want to lose myself in the page
Within the heart that beats
Inside this book
The words are calling to me
Singing their singsong songsing
Whisper Whisper Whisper Whisper
x
I slide my finger along the edge of a page
Let the page cut into me
Slide along the grooves in my finger
My finger print breaking open
With an offering
Blood wells to the surface of my skin
Like an oil spill
And the pages begin to
WHISPER WHISPER WHISPER WHISPER
Loudly, so loudly, so loud I can hear
Nothing else
Only the
whisper whisper WHISPER
Of the pages within my hands
Of the words that begin to swirl
like a wind filled with hope
As I hold my finger over a page
And watch as my blood begins to fall
Watch as it drops to the page like a kiss
Like a caress
Of black words along an expanse of white
I am in the words now
The words have become me
Sometimes words any day words
I have found my home
I have found my freedom.
I’ve been watching Under the Dome Season One. My first impression still stand: I prefer the book-but then again, I’m a book guy. I will always prefer the book. The Harry Potter films, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Princess Bride; it doesn’t matter which films they are, I will always prefer the book.
However, since watching the first season of Under the Dome aired, I’ve had one line from the show running through my head. It’s a line spoken by Julia Shumway, played on the show by Rachel Lefevre. It stuck with me.
After Dale Barbara saved Julia from dying in an epidemic, she wakes and turns to him. She says: “Was it you? The one who saved me?”
At the time, it struck me as a horribly corny line, but out of the whole show, that’s been the one that stuck with me. Odd right? However, I couldn’t get it out of my head.
So, I asked for the first season for Christmas and got it. I did a little skip of joy inside when I opened the wrapping. Although my first impression of the show was

based on a book lovers reaction, now I could watch the season again and just enjoy it. And you know what? It’s pretty freaking awesome.
I’m about to start episode 8 and I love it. I’ve become really involved in the characters, the ever shifting story lines, the sub-plots. the mystery and intrigue. The story has me hooked. I vaguely remember what happens from watching it the first time around, but I missed a few episodes.
Either way, it rocks and feels like we’re watching a Stephen King novel. It’s like a mirror of its literary cousin, three times removed. The show is different from the novel, almost completely, but Under the Dome the show and the book are awesome in their own way.
I can’t wait to find out what happens next, all over again. It’s like re-reading a book, but in video!
was in a large banquet hall.
I was surrounded by those
I loved, even people that I
had not seen in years.
and the hall was filled with
the sound of people talking.
Their voices were like music.
I had no idea why we were there;
it was like I had woken up
all of a sudden only to find myself
surrounded by a Shangri-La of
friends and family.
I was sitting in a throne that
was in the centre of the room.
The party was going on around me,
and I was as it’s centre. It was as if
I was the sun and the people
I loved were the planets.
A woman stood up and
clinked the edge of her cup
with a long, pointed knife.
It looked like a sword.
The room fell silent and
everyone was expectant.
“We all know why we’re here.”
She smiled at me and raised
her glass. She was shining and bright,
like the moon, full of light that
rippled all over her skin
and made her sparkle.
“We’re here to celebrate you.”
She pointed at me and I was filled
with love and contentment.
“We have a gift for you.”
She held up large piece of paper.
On it, I saw myself as I was
when I was younger.
It was a photograph
that had been blown up to full size.
I looked at my younger self
and recognized myself there,
even though I no longer felt
like the same person.
She pulled out something
that looked like a wand.
Waving it in front of the paper,
I watched the photo begin to
shimmer and undulate.
I watched the photograph
settle itself on the paper
as if it were a Polaroid.
When the picture started
to came into focus,
I saw myself as I was now,
holding out two gold disks,
one balanced in each palm.
“Who you were has changed
into who you are.”
She pointed with her wand at
the paper again and it began
to shimmer once more,
When it came into focus,
I saw myself again.
I was standing on a grassy knoll,
looking towards the future,
surrounded by the sun and sky.
The disks from the previous photo
had multiplied and surrounded me.
They were floating in the sky
like several small suns.
There were animals in the grass.
They looked as if they were protecting me,
or offering me guidance on the journey
that I was about to take into the unknown.
“You are not afraid of yourself anymore.”
She smiled again and her brightness
increased until it looked
as if she were made of stars.
She raised her glass and said “Slainte!”
Everyone in the room raised their own glass
and repeated the word.
They clinked their glasses
their neighbours and the room
sounded as if it were filled
with the tinkling of bells.
Light began to pour from their cups
until all I could see was
was the brightness
of the sun.
were like photographs
that danced around her
like dreams which
everyone could see.
She held love in one hand
and mercy in the other.
She held tight to sexuality
and emotion,
letting the two
mingle and meld and mix.
She held on to the smoke they created
like a wish waiting
to be born.
She was the beginning
of all life,
the power of nature
and what it could
give back to the world.
She was change and renewal
and the embodiment of passion,
filling the air around her
with joy and reflection.
She was Mother Nature,
creating a new connection
between the visible
and the invisible.
Looking around her,
She saw that each of
these parts of her
were represented by pictures
and only by stepping back
could you look
at the whole of her.
She was the Empress
with her head turned
towards the future.
Dedicated to Dawn who is an Empress. 🙂