The Image of Desire

Reed Flute Caves in Guilin, Guangxi Provine, China

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


We become what we desire.

For better.
For worse.

It’s not the surface desires that we become,
not really
.

They flit away on quiet breezes
dance among petals
defend us against ourselves
against the world
–right or wrong–
and all its accusations.  

Rather,
and only secondly,
we are made in the image of subterranean desire
–those that dwell, and sometimes hide, in the underground caverns
the unknown depths
of the heart.

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My Cubicle Will Not Contain Me

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I sit in my cube, stare at this white and glowing screen. To my left and to my right, bland and grayish cubicle walls. I’m stiff. I’m tight. I need to stretch, so I do, arching my back and extending my arms, twisting one way then the other.

It doesn’t help.

The physical constraint is the minor issue. The main issue: my spirit longs for something more.

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Written Into My Future

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My like for English, for the discovery of words and the lilt of syntax, was written into my future before a single day came to be. This is evidenced in several ways, but right now I’m thinking how, in high school, English wooed me with its siren’s song. Okay, not really. At first I liked it because I was good at it, and I had teachers whose passion dripped from sleeves, who lived out the word “fun,” knew more than just the Webster’s definition.

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When Emotion Taunts Knowledge

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Irrational fascination.
Forces of attraction.
Lured
into a familiar web of desire
an intricate maze I may never escape
relocation, my lone saving grace.

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It’s True

Cindy Crawford aka Sherry

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I don’t care about impressing girls,” he said.

Their brows rose, unanimously.

“It’s true!”

Sherry joined the circle. She had a mole on her cheek. It was perfect. She was perfect.

He changed the topic of conversation. “So, anyone see my touchdown last night?”

Everyone nodded. He re-enacted it anyway.

 

Too Little, Too Late

 

man and nature

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your eyes and lips teamed up to smile, and your face was lined with joy, slightly bronzed by the Austrian star with a radiance of equal warmth.

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Her Aliases

Beautiful woman face. watercolor illustration
It’s too cloudy to be alone
the rain accentuates loneliness
sliding down her prominent cheek bones
and face
speckled with chocolate morsel rain drops

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The Head and the Heart Concert

You don’t mosh at certain concerts. Like The Head and the Heart. They have some upbeat songs, but nothing crazy or loud enough to whirl around, elbows flying, like a kamikaze orangutan. It’s even hard to get more than a solid head nod or shoulder sway going. You can dance to any music if there’s a beat, but some genres are easier than others. Chill indie folk music like The Head and the Heart is not an easy one. Even so, those two girls in front of me danced brazen.

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