a jar of fireflies

to jules, the boy butterfly, cocooned somewhere in a sleepingbag,
drinking starlight and sleeping under god.
with autumn dust on his feeble eyelashes.
who is teaching me to look past the clouds in the morning,
just before i get into my car to rush off somewhere and wait..
wait..
just for a bit, wait...
to see the geese triangle through the sky kissing the ripe lemon moon goodbye.
i'll send them off north with a wave of my tiny hand,
wishing i knew what that felt like.
to the boy cocooned,
whose materialisms are the sounds of crickets and breeze through the jungle grass.
and the atlantic sweet water falling from the pacifics cotton clouds.
who taught me that its ok to open the lid and let the fireflies go.
for this is an act braver than any i know.
they still illuminate the walls of my ribcage quietly leaving behind trails of delicious light around my heart.
to the boy butterfly,
who is unafraid...

posted by drew carlascio

the molten sky

as your spheric surface invades the night sky i wonder if those blotches were borne into you forcefully or if they developed over time, with age and fatigue. tired from beholding a world of malice and ignorance, your perfect surface has corroded and the light that you reflect grows dim. was that the plan? or do you still shine when no one is looking, when busy eyes look inward and outward instead of upward?

hang in your incredulous sky for your journey is long and your toils are endless. you viewed our destruction and lamented your concerns to the foggy night sky which hid your sorrows and caged in your fears. eclipse yourself in shadow and never show your dark side. will no one raise their heads? will the blood not move? will the face remain comatose longing for something to make it plush?

stare hard into my jealous skin and you shall see the inner workings of something not yet breathed upon, not yet fashioned. it is making its slow journey into the depths of my sadness. my shell has cracked, interior exposed, an orphan in your light. as i search the heavens for traces of your journey, i am left with a parade of cauterized emotions, an endless labyrinth of choices. maybe our paths are not so different after all?

oh to see the day you found your resting place and reflected your light in freshness for the first time. if i could, i'd sail a tattered ship on your beams through the clouds and dense atmosphere where together we could view this cold cruel world and hope to God that our dreams haven't been shattered in the fallout.

posted by jon havens

embellishment of a friend

some days iam lucky enough to watch her breathe in life through those mousy lungs. unafraid, or not seeming that way at least, of what goes in. laughter is usually her cup of almond tea in the afternoon. and true there are times when i long to run through cornfields and explore quiet lands, swing out over rivers and hope to god that the rope doesnt break, because i have all my cloths on. but there are also certain times when i would much prefer to watch her quietly drag the cigarette from between those tiny mint lips. seaberry fizz between her blue toes, cold from the ocean. harp string ribs protecting her cotton candy heart. tulip teeth, wonderfully snow caped, cavities and all. music and sugar in her veins. yes i would say that she is intrinsically authentic, thus the drawing in of me to her. shortcake and coffee in the morning, well i cant make shortcake but i'd try. how comically awkward that walk. more like a geriatric shuffle really, you know when you have not one but two cups of coffee, balancing the hot liquid as well as your own thoughts on a tightrope. concentration is key, no matter how funny you look. oh sometimes i would much prefer this over the silly adventures we boys entertain. and perhaps we humans dont say enough courageous things about the courageous people we know.

posted by drew carlascio

the cherry crane

(this is a quick short i wrote today)

they will gather on the frozen precipice,
soft pearl birds, quite and swift.
i will watch only one,
as the orange star dips under the atlantic.
she will always wait for me, vermilion feathers.
the cherry crane...
i will gather courage and run.
i will run across the gelid ground.
i will rise into the blue open oxygen,
small arms around the scarlet crane.
we will leave behind the colours of hell,
and fly without purpose.
we will be nautical, one mile above the sea.
i will be the child of dying stars.
our eyes bright filaments above the beating wings
post meridian will glow to the east,
the worlds complexity now a gossamer thought,
with courage we will aviate,
we will see things,
and
never see them again
and tears will stream from her golden eyes,
because i will trust her.
the cherry crane

posted by drew carlascio