Friday, January 14, 2011

pictures of you

this small machine makes it possible to peer
into places long before we should

i found you in a photograph
laughing skyward
so much unbridled joy
flooding your great face

if you look you might find me
wearing a gown of torn gold lace
running through my garden
eyelids painted like blue dusk
holding hands with a boy i seem to love

as i curl into his arms gaze up at him you would never know
my eye would tear in half, he'd be
on the floor with arms around his knees
rocking forth and back speaking to himself in person third
you'd never know the love, the fear
unless we'd been close for months and months
and you allowed to peek into my books

but i've pictured, written it
for every stranger's passing eye

i would like to be that girl
who made you smile that way
engulfed in brightness of some late night world
the whole sky aglow above us, no distance in between


  1. So beautiful. I have definitely been there. It's amazing how much--and how little--of the story a photo can tell.

  2. Oh Francesca.
    You always make me feel happy and sad at the same time.
    Your work is simply beautiful.

    Love, Ette

  3. so beautiful. i know that feeling well! thank you again and again for those beautiful poems you are sharing with us

  4. Torn gold lace, the neurons face
    the steaming ghosts of furrows, where
    the gusts of thought are clothed
    while they do race.
    And do I trace reflected face
    of newer one who awes your heart
    with flutters' Spring from winter's
    cold embrace?
    Then I do taste a sweeter grace
    on hearing heart's enthrall of thine,
    and what you love, my friendship
    does embrace.

    Let eyelids, more like violet set afire,
    be seen before enchanted well, with wings :
    I know these eyes, and give them chant
    beyond the mirrors' haze to see
    what soulless city's soul may be assayed
    with one whose spirit sorrowed sees beyond
    facade, with huldra fingers holding seeds
    her breath enbeautied finds what beauty hides
    within, and woos it forth, with words.
    And wide the words are worshipped -- now will she
    the egregores of glory-choir love collect, and see
    herself in love's great mirror, not the glass
    that simply covers darkness, but deceives?

    what upon a hallowed eve's might be
    enchantment that the wings of time let slip
    do fall and rest their feathers on the soft
    eternal grounds ; so we our awe may split
    the wonder from the terror, and select
    what memories we shall raise a chalice high
    to sip in toast to holy spirits' praise.

    In owl's eye I saw above
    that elfin child rocking ;
    heard his triggered pleas and prayers
    to hold his ground in love.
    I know his truest heart.
    What fated was may fated be,
    the owl doth say, but wisdom makes
    the wise of fools of love
    to friendship seek.