Tuesday, July 22, 2003


As we fall off the terrace, we think of sand.
Moon perhaps, shadow of self
Arcing towards concrete
Hopefully cocooned in a dune
We land with a flump
And the stars blur, and shatter and
Shimmy into sight once more with
Every heaving breath- I’m alive,
I’m alive, I’m alive, I landed with
A thump and a push squirming into light and life
(keep your elbow tucked in, miss)
Squinting and shrieking-

Flying through the air we can soar
and swoop and whistle and sing our glee
And for now we can sit pretty in our ruffled
Bassinet and curl our fingers and smile at the
Memory of flight.

Mina at 5:47 PM


Saturday, July 19, 2003

1 a.m, a pen and me

I am writing by moonlight, in
The replacement-for-fireflies light of
My cell phone.

Writing in the moonlight,
Trying to be silent- my pen
One with the crickets chirping under my consciousness;
Dotting I’s and crossing T’s in time with
the Sinatra in my ears.

I write in moonlight
That touches my toes
Casts shadows under the bed, washes
The daytime into a sheet of silver
And charcoal.

Light to write sonnets in; silver to cast into
Sheets to lie under-
Light to kiss the leaves that whisper beneath
My window, dancing with the night breeze.

I write in moonlight.
Feathers of fancy brush
The cheek of my mind. I feel
Deliciously wanton, playing truant like this-
Awake with myself, awake when the world around me
Breathes slumber and sandman; I have resisted his lure
To be here- my music, my night;
A night to dance with the fairies
Barefoot in the grass
To wear the dew on my eyelashes,
The zephyr of the wind in my hair-

I write, I write by moonlight.

Mina at 1:12 PM


Thursday, July 17, 2003

I am bone
Picked by countless of yous-
Carriers of humanity; still
As a statue I stand.
Watching the probes question,
Ask, seek, pry-
Know so much while I am as quiet as
A leaf
Furled inside the flower I am curled,
a pod
Rolled-up caterpillar tongue
Noting with interest the bees
With amusement the bees
E’en with love,
the bees.

Mina at 1:51 PM


Sunday, July 13, 2003

Our silence is comfortable.
We take the clips out of our hair
The glasses off our faces
And lie facing each other, serenely comfortable, blinking
At each other’s blurred self- smile
Though we can’t exactly see every tooth grinning
And words
Are unnecessary intruders
Upon our quiet.
What do words matter when
You’re on the other end
Of the line; it’s enough
That you are there.
What does air, articulated
In chatter of alphabet matter
When I can lie in the grass beside you
Quietly, quieter than the whisper of the breeze
And watch the clouds go by-
When it rains I know your soul
Is outside with mine, dancing in
The pouring silver
And smoky clouds-

My quiet is not my void.
This hush is not empty; this space
Is already full of things you do not know of.
My silence is the seal that
Marks you mine- for words,
Bearers of the bumbling, knock-kneed
Gibberish of the tongue
Fade into insignificance as you become
One more star in my sky.

Mina at 1:42 PM