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Amy Saul-Zerby
- NJ
- Last Record: 2013-04-02 07:29:01 -1000
- Joined: Apr 13, 2009
- facebook.com/amyszpoetry
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tonight I am just |
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dear passionflower tender, |
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I went out wandering today |
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I’ll be twenty-four this year |
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I am from the lakes of
Minnesota, born and reborn, and reborn again I am from the salt of the Atlantic, and of months of tears from being left and fro... |
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I dreamt that time spun me round |
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Behind the big eyes |
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a date
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I wait for you |
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In the springtime |
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There was a day, years ago |
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I have danced with
madness and the fish of hope swims through my veins tracing copper origins onto skeletal piecemeal unencumbered free and altoget... |
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I stepped out my window
it wasn’t a dream I thought I would never have to come back you pinned your shadow against the wall smiled your |
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For you, I recommend |
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The echo into which |
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Just a little poem I wrote for the shadow collab...I think it needs a companion poem of the shadow's response to the human...if anyone feels like writing one... :)
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You must have thought |
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Last night’s dreams |
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gross incandescence |
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Feel my forehead |
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(In Loving Memory)
When you died I was the one to write a piece about you for the paper It should’ve been someone else I barely knew you Y... |
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my Odyssey
begins with a letter I will never write and ends with a death no, not ends my Odyssey begins with a death and a funeral I will never attend<... |
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Honey, there is honey
on my lips No matter how many times I lick them I can still taste it (can still taste you) Honey, honey, honey on my… Honey, it... |
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I line up
my little radish dolls across the desk they do a lovely dance in the lamplight Oranges carved into pocked golfballs and jack-o-lant... |
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Little milkweed
tuft of fur drifting over tickling, drifting drifting, drifting, drifting Little milkweed doing a little dance sap-sticky hands small in larg... |
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daydrops kiss
newborn eyes into curious daisy drums mad music swings taste cuts cure-all into bites. but! tin melodies drink dark ... |
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These stillborn
words emerge silently from my fingertips now. Little stumps of words, stunted and stilted, sprung from the soil like skeletons. ... |
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the abandoned poem
sits in the sun slowly hardening into what will be its forever-unfinished shape never suspecting that it is perfect |
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if by some miracle
you could see me always you would look away in disgust drawn into the cracks and underneath in my unending, you would find something lacking there<... |
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I want…
to write poems again. Or at least to hold you in my arms at this second. Otherwise, I think I’d rather be dreaming. Otherwise, I’d r... |
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this is the infinite yes, my love
the time has come at last and what are you going to do? dance with angels until the morning light comes and shines on their faces and reve... |
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and in the back of
my mind, the secret knowledge that I am a time bomb ticking away makes me grateful for this moment when I didn’t explode and s... |
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In truth, I remember nothing.
The past four years are a blank. The past ten, twenty, my whole life… One long exhalation. These days, I don’t always... |
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in the summertime
when we used to lie on the chaise lounges by your grandmother’s pool or sit on the edge and tie our feet together with hair ties to be mer... |
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I am burning my |
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Alone, deeply
This is the human condition, you say How does anyone live then, I want to know No, my solitude is my own Like a lazy eye |
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I can’t describe the nothingness
the emptiness of after I only know this— it’s the silence where there once was whispering. It’s the absence of dreams and the stillnes... |
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I think in terms of these vast
spaces, like oranges crossing continents and letters from oceans away Pittsburgh is too far to visit but I ... |
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I am the miracle baby
and I have given birth to myself in the form of a pill electro-shocked my soul Zzz-CLEAR. Zzz-CLEAR. and she’s back! how magical |
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I found God in an orange
my body below the table folds gracelessly the harsh windows of your lust close in on me your words are in my stomach, l... |
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the dead walk among us
well, at least until we lock them away we try to resurrect them save them good doctors must play god re-animate rehabilitate |
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Caroline,
the smallest object can reduce me to tears. I try to bend with the wind but I lose my balance. In the shattered compact I arrange the pieces of s... |
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I watch myself
slipping falling in slow motion a film in my head I cannot stop only hit record and watch the seconds tick b... |
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The boys were |
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Whether or not the microphone is on or
the camera has film in it or the words make it out onto the page We Are RECording Someone once told me the world isn’t made |
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I fear the time will come |
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I am stagnant |
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is You and yet |
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colors used to fill the room |
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Come to me-- |
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The tree trunks were heavy on our backs as we |
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In the middle of the night |
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“You’re not a |
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So it goes |
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And if, |
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I. |
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In the quiet of your absence |
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first, |
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glimmer of light |
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You come back to me |
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Once a star can support itself completely |
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you are the one |
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I grew quietly |
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In the pitch black |
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come on up |
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Once, I found god in an orange |
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cacheth challenged me to write a poem about my favorite piece of instrumental music on the site. This is my response.
Wintersleep Curled up on Christmas eve I feel my bo... |
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I don’t want to be |
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There must be something |
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What was it |
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this is not what I |
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If I was everything |
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no matter what |
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all your poems are |
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i am slowly dis-
appearing shedding my skin cell by |
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some days it comes easy-- |
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bohemia is not dead |
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when it comes around to you at the dinner table what |
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i want to help you. |
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he says cassette tapes are making a comeback they're |
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underneath the Texas Moon we made love in your car until
our bodies were numb do you remember there was a lady gaga song on the radio and we smoked your last joint under the purple s... |
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There will be— no spring- time for me ... |
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i will build a world in your eyes |
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i wanted to be a birth mark on you i wanted to be a new brown freckle but i was just a temporary tattoo a stamp on your wrist... |
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