I believe in love notes,
in the transparency of
shuddering ink
across featherweight paper;
across featherweight paper;
carefully and fearfully
construed in a rainstorm
of touch and
light.
Saudade by Nicole Barth [6/17/13]
Your hands;
the way they make and move
and illustrate the words that sear my lungs.
and illustrate the words that sear my lungs.
Too encumbered and hungry to voice them myself.
Your kisses like dew on the morning grass.
Our laughter: sudden like a summer storm.
If I could,
I'd tell you home is your lips pressed against my neck.
Your sonorous breaths, my metronome for the coming day.
On Hold by Nicole Barth [5/26/13]
Words drip down into my consciousness
like candle wax on an oak table.
Two in the morning,
persistent like the steady drumming in
a summertime parade.
They celebrate an unknown destination
in the palms of a patient receiver.
Wait for me.
like candle wax on an oak table.
Two in the morning,
persistent like the steady drumming in
a summertime parade.
They celebrate an unknown destination
in the palms of a patient receiver.
Wait for me.
Stars In My Pocket by Nicole Barth [5/26/13]
If I were to be stripped
bare
of all the things I've known,
Leave me
with clothes soaked
in the memory of a long hike,
A view of the horizon,
the kiss I stole from your lips,
and your gentle palm against mine.
bare
of all the things I've known,
Leave me
with clothes soaked
in the memory of a long hike,
A view of the horizon,
the kiss I stole from your lips,
and your gentle palm against mine.
Acrid by Nicole Barth [4/16/13]
Silence runs rampant in the playground of the night.
It stops and shudders, twitching so slightly
before changing course.
Its footsteps reverberate,
forever repeated by the earth on which it treads.
The shivering ground: blades of grass quiver.
The midnight wind is troubled.
Because in the end,
yes,
always the end,
Remember what is left unsaid.
It stops and shudders, twitching so slightly
before changing course.
Its footsteps reverberate,
forever repeated by the earth on which it treads.
The shivering ground: blades of grass quiver.
The midnight wind is troubled.
Because in the end,
yes,
always the end,
Remember what is left unsaid.
Ask Me by Nicole Barth [4/16/13]
What scrawling do you hide?
A conflicted jigsaw of care and condescension.
An unpleasant sip of bitter tea.
But how could I turn away?
I'm lost in a smattering of broken intentions.
Stuttered retorts trapped at the gate of hesitation.
I hung from the lights of inverted cities.
Vestiges of the mess you made.
A conflicted jigsaw of care and condescension.
An unpleasant sip of bitter tea.
But how could I turn away?
I'm lost in a smattering of broken intentions.
Stuttered retorts trapped at the gate of hesitation.
I hung from the lights of inverted cities.
Vestiges of the mess you made.
Patience by Nicole Barth [3/9/13]
She wore a dress with a sea glass back; hesitant breaths.
The haze of watercolor troubles
and the silence of an owl shaped lamp for company.
The rain's lyrics were lost.
She measured out her life in teaspoon quantities.
Every moment an isolated drop adding to the former and the former until
reaching the perfection of the whole.
What follows?
The haze of watercolor troubles
and the silence of an owl shaped lamp for company.
The rain's lyrics were lost.
She measured out her life in teaspoon quantities.
Every moment an isolated drop adding to the former and the former until
reaching the perfection of the whole.
What follows?
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