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Monday, May 3, 2010

"A Heart's Progress: Looking, Finding, Loving, Lost, & Fine"

Prompt Tool 4/8

“Mortar & Pestle”

Aerial acrobatics of winged spirits and
Wishful thinking swirl
Patchouli through the candlelight.

Scrape of stone on stone,
Round and round.

Rose petals for your heart,
Thyme is for commitment,
Clove, to open your eyes, and
Lilac for empowerment.
Willow, bluebell, and bay
Add power to my will.
Cherrystones for inner beauty and
Fertile currants to keep you.


Round and round,
Until you love me.

Prompt: Until ______ 4/7

“Until Friday”

On Monday you sat
Two rows back.
I felt your stare
Bounce off my shoulders
As we discussed the merits
Of Blake and the tragedy
Of Keats.

On Tuesday you’d moved
Up a chair and studied
My profile as if you were
Drawing a silhouette
As we deliberated Hawthorne’s
Treatment of sin, knowledge,
And the human condition.

On Wednesday, I found you
On my right, brushing
My hand as you pointed
Out a moving passage of

On Thursday we were
Face to face, eyes
Locked and pulses
Racing in our impassioned
Debate of whether
Or not Thoreau was
Full of shit.

So, where do we go from here?

Prompt: Love 4/13

“When You Hear I Love You, What I Really Mean to Say.”

I’d love to weave myself into your eyelashes and
each time you’d open your eyes you’d see only me.

I’d love to tangle myself like seaweed in your
thoughts until you thought only of me.

I’d love to bottle the taste of your lips and
hide it away so they tasted only of me.

I’d love to scrape a pen across a page and
spill my soul, but everything just comes out

“I love you.”

Prompt: Death 4/16

“Death of Us”

I seemed to have lost your regard,
How careless of me.
Then again, you always said
I was the irresponsible type.
I blamed it on being a Gemini,
On feeling as if I were two people sometimes.
You laughed and said
You didn’t like either of them.

Prompt: not looking back 4/20

“Choose Your Own Adventure”

I can hear your exit echo in the stunned
silence. The click of your dressy shoes across the
tiled restaurant floor, the whoosh of the door
As it cuts into the angry night air, your retreat
down the sidewalk, unconsciously avoiding the cracks,
hands in your pockets, not knowing what to do with them.

I can feel the people trying not to watch,
silently betting on whether I’ll cry or run after you.
This cozy Italian place, the backdrop for our first
date, is now our birth announcement and obituary,
the alpha and omega of us. Our favorite place,
that turned out only to be mine, never meant a thing to you.

Like one of those books we read when we were kids, that let
you choose the hero’s path, you’ve run away from the
quest and I’ve decided that this princess doesn’t
need saving after all. As I ordered a tiramisu,
I imagine I can hear the people applauding in their
minds and see the women smiling behind their white napkins.