Anna Nicole Smith

Posted by sarahsmiles on February 9th, 2007 filed in Uncategorized
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Anna‘s dead, and all’s well with the world.


28 Wild at heart.

Posted by sarahsmiles on February 8th, 2007 filed in Uncategorized
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Tender love, morning sickness vomit.
Somewhere after the third viewing
of rocky horror, and just before david lynch,
something snaps; so far out, too far in.

You people. Your people. The smart ones.
What kind of person is that? I know.
I know. The ones who crawl forward,
quiet claws, bended knee smiling.

And I step lightly, holding my belly,
wiping my lips, acid bile mouth,
tired eyes… alive and growing
within calling my soul forward.

I call to you father, as to you
mother, neither whom I really know,
and wonder why I am borne. And we end up
where we end up almost by default:
your little weapon of choice.
Wild at heart.


27 birthday

Posted by sarahsmiles on February 7th, 2007 filed in Uncategorized
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For my 27th birthday
the sun will shine at night.
My midnight tan will glow
red gold and radiate delight.
And on that day the silver shine
will dominate the noon,
and everyone will laugh
and play beneath that silver moon.
Everything will be reversed
and just the way I will choose
as year’s is just going to suck,
I’ve ready got the blues.


26 Good Vibrations

Posted by sarahsmiles on February 7th, 2007 filed in Uncategorized
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I listen to things.
It is not enough to know, or think.
The vibrations, the sense that senses the world.
Sound waves fuck my brain with a gentle caress,
uncaring of power or politics… just a tickle.

I like to watch, with my ears, to see/hear
as the fabric of the sheets move
across your chest and my back.
Nylon or silk, denim and leather,
tell the same story, in a different tense.

But when I hear your breath,
head on my breast in the cool dawn,
this sweetest vibration moves my soul.


25/100 Lost voices

Posted by sarahsmiles on February 7th, 2007 filed in Uncategorized
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Words and language all my own,
secreted and overlooked,
lost and profound.

My touch, my touching,
touched and touchedness,
verbs unspoken, enacted
infinite, future and past.

My smells, in motion and static,
translate across all my senses
to where my heart and soul
can know them and make them mine.

Only my fingers speak words
you understand, you can make
sense of. Fingers speak words
you read and interpret.
Not part of my understanding.

I respond to what is around me;
all of it. You respond to a mere
subset of the world, and you’ve
forgotten to speak with lost voices.


Winter’s Sun VII

Posted by sarahsmiles on February 2nd, 2007 filed in Uncategorized
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January 2007 in a dark cold place that only gets sun on the window for a few moments before dusk. I got some picture like this a year or two back, I’ll have to find them as well.

There’s a full set at http://www.flickr.com/photos/sarahsmiles/sets/72157594513791828/