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Literature
Empty Nest Syndrome
    All through February I watched the blue jays build a nest. First, with thin twigs of eucalyptus plucked from the back lot, and then, tufts of palm fluff and long webby clumps of fur from our collie’s undercoat. They took their time, placing a stick here, some fuzz there, removing it and trying again. Sometimes construction materials were passed, beak to beak, in deference or delegation, for proper placement. I couldn’t believe my luck as I sat watching them every morning from a swivel stool at the tall glass table sipping tea. The only thing between the birds and myself was a single hung window, and then, the sparse branches of a four-foot boxwood bush nestled up against it.
            It was still wintery in the yard and we hadn’t been outside much for a couple months. Due to an unfortunate accident, our normally wandering cat was recovering inside for six weeks of stitches and begrudgingly-us
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Literature
1983
i can't see 
her
she
is the color
of oxygen
the deepest
atom
of rain
and i
am
breathing
just to
see her
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Literature
the third phase
After 20 years of walking with you
I've learned to keep my head above water
learned not to breathe
where soporific grief
dwells deep in blue currents
where once I survived
the warm refuge suspended
absorbing the language of oceans
at once the burden and release
of a full bodied soul.
After 20 years of walking beside you
the air vibrates freely
fills my lungs with all that is nomral
and gray
and I belong now
among the waking
dreading evening for its testimony
when in dreams I'll witness
the sound of surrender.
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:iconmyfallfromgrace:myfallfromgrace 1 3
Literature
staring at a photograph of you in the snow
Yours is a smile that just found out
life is a road
flowing with truths newly excavated 
and breathing.
You have no patience
for symbolic alters.
Your eyes draw 
a deep line
Between high desert plateau 
and the valley of denouement
mapping a million trips already taken 
and the recipe for redemption
buried where only you
can find it. 
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Literature
Saturday Haiku
Stunned, groundless, falling:
I am his bird shot in flight.
Earth, return my soul.
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Literature
Purification Rituals 7-6-5-4
I hold no joy no pain no ecstasy
in a corporal cage:
my spirit flows into the walls
occupies the library when no one is there
floats in the aqua pool under the sun
leans its elbows on the counter
stained with a ring of last night's wine.
It haunts the upstairs room
where no one ever goes
becomes a thing of animation
stirring when I'm in love
like a dozen owls in the attic chamber
hungry for the hunt.
The sea-green walls vibrate
with eager ghosts
the joists holding up the ceiling
diffuse a holy energy 
at my gaze shifting sideways
In the morning
(windows wide open)
I'll wait for the storm
to seize my sanctuary.
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Generations by myfallfromgrace Generations :iconmyfallfromgrace:myfallfromgrace 0 0
Literature
At the End of the Day
He searches
but cannot find her
across the vast
and bleached white sheets.
He's looking for the curve
of her hip
and she eludes him
like a blessing.
For the moment
they are without self-interest
though naked in repose 
she cannot let him in.
Sleep invades the crevices
of her brain
as the day 
slides into nothingness.
Learning the lines to a poem
she is writing 
the words slip away
with the world.
He is a thread
of conspicuous absences
(at least to the 
quiet observer)
She is free to
fathom the facets
of love made pure
by truth.
Never a bride in a hall
she did not write
a letter of promise.
He looks up
and asks for a miracle.
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Literature
Jacqueline and the Magnificent Divorce
Just look at Jackie
living in amaranthine sunsets
no more will she sacrifice
for traffic lights
and plastic pleasures
The streets unfold
beneath her feet
on a destiny of 
her choosing.
She will abide
to Pacific songs 
as she falls asleep
alone to the rhythm
of waves against 
her dreams
moons and melancholy
glittering in the undertow
resplendent rolling peace
Just look at Jackie
finally free.
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:iconmyfallfromgrace:myfallfromgrace 1 0
Literature
for a little while
Our fingers trail the unimaginable 
our bones seek stillness
Restless again, we are wish-makers 
teasing out truth 
overheard by sapient oaks
that read our lips in whisper-language
shake their heads in wind
frowning at our half-myths
and seasons of departure
Still we go on believing
in wild tessellation: 
the terrain of my body
embraced upon yours
dreaming tragic indiscretion
could make us whole and unafraid
if one day we could wake
somewhere fused by brutal chemistry
cold rain falling on our shoulders
and words like these
(unnecessary names for things
undone) would fade away.
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Literature
Everything
I hear god in the snow on the road
that speaks of trails 
and poppies beginning
of brown birds that lift and float from the meadow: 
a joyous motion of weightless departure. 
And if I tried to bring you with me
it was only this: 
I didn’t want you to miss anything
like today— the wind over the tips of green
the owl burrow at the edge of the pasture
Or the old tortoise behind the fence
running as he does
but you were ready to leave 
like the light brown birds, 
your fleeting migration begun.
This path preaches peace 
though it warns of hot dry seasons 
of something scavenged 
 and brittle with drought. 
The struggle will continue 
and I will exist for the days  
when green invites me 
to listen to a trail made plain 
by new grass. 
 
So I will reside in harmony 
as you slide away
Bring flight to my intention 
uproot trouble and stagnation
rest and return 
to the place where I
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Literature
The Red Jag
The loneliest sound I know
comes before dawn on a Sunday morning:
Your engine
strikes up the band
in the garage below me
and fades away to a dull ache
The neighbors are relieved
when you go
and drift back into sleep
pacifying themselves with
low curses
In a minute
I'll go downstairs
babe in arms
and look around
I'll put the kettle on
and make breakfast
for your tall son
and look around
Then
tea and baby
I'll sit on the couch
before a table
littered with catalogs:
clothing, garden supplies, toys
I'll pick one up
then throw it down
Unable to remember
what I'm looking for.
:iconmyfallfromgrace:myfallfromgrace
:iconmyfallfromgrace:myfallfromgrace 1 3
Literature
This is the Lesson that Follows Me
This is the lesson that follows me
the ring on which i will hang my keys:
remember how love settles inside
absorbs all that is familiar
how easily it enters the body
and how easily it leaves
sliding soundlessly away.
And when he goes
how little he finds to say
and solid his goodbyes;
how light his footsteps as he walks
and how vividly you recall his breathing
so perfect and gentle on your breast
as he closes the door behind him.
How sure he is
that ending is beginning
and how you must
with all your strength
believe him.
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Literature
Things Permanent
No, I will not love you forever.
Here is a lie I cannot tell you.
Few things are that long.
Do not corrupt me
by saying you'll never leave.
I know few permanent things
lifeless
my hand print in the cement
of my mother's back yard.
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:iconmyfallfromgrace:myfallfromgrace 0 0
Literature
Seventeen
My sister's innocence
       has left on the 6pm train
       has taken leave of her body
       has gone to bring the boys home.
My sister's innocence
       fell down the stairs
       drank purple champagne
       took a free ride.
My sister's innocence
       laid down laughing
       laid down dancing
       laid down the law.
My sister's innocence
       was stripped in flight
       was tricked and treated
       was passed under the table.
My sister is innocent.
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:iconmyfallfromgrace:myfallfromgrace 4 0
Literature
The Rambler
History leaps
from the slow butane
of his bic.
He smokes sweet
tobacco
and I speak through
years of restless anger
that he dealt me
like a fine hand
of bridge.
Caught in the early
tug of childhood
I attribute my oddities to
acute injustice.
I believe in the Father,
the Son
and the Tarot on a Friday night:
I discuss my affairs with the cards --
His ace of swords triumphs.
This time
I will not bleed.
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Favourites

501's by jjackm 501's :iconjjackm:jjackm 24 20 Sweetness and an empty sack by jjackm by jjackm Sweetness and an empty sack by jjackm :iconjjackm:jjackm 14 6
Literature
11:11 unending
fluttering first kiss
always waiting in airports
for home to come home
:iconYouInventedMe:YouInventedMe
:iconyouinventedme:YouInventedMe 34 18
Coupe' dessous by jjackm Coupe' dessous :iconjjackm:jjackm 28 39
Journal
Juicing Rinds
Let me
write you something you
can dance to.
Days together
make
Forever
white light prison
rainbow
freedom
through a prism
wick
&
wax
waning
run
ning
on no
sleep
ing
on my
feet
spark
spark
spark
dark
:iconBeaple:Beaple
:iconbeaple:Beaple 4 11
Randy Sexton Painting by jjackm Randy Sexton Painting :iconjjackm:jjackm 13 4 Kindred Spirits by Culpeo-Fox Kindred Spirits :iconculpeo-fox:Culpeo-Fox 1,065 112 How by Culpeo-Fox How :iconculpeo-fox:Culpeo-Fox 1,124 0 Tzilp. by Culpeo-Fox Tzilp. :iconculpeo-fox:Culpeo-Fox 1,826 126 El condor pasa by Culpeo-Fox El condor pasa :iconculpeo-fox:Culpeo-Fox 1,201 145 Once by Culpeo-Fox Once :iconculpeo-fox:Culpeo-Fox 5,163 546 Here, stay dry by Culpeo-Fox Here, stay dry :iconculpeo-fox:Culpeo-Fox 6,591 701 There might be UFOS... by Culpeo-Fox There might be UFOS... :iconculpeo-fox:Culpeo-Fox 2,420 218 All that could have been by Culpeo-Fox All that could have been :iconculpeo-fox:Culpeo-Fox 2,153 0 Bambastarde by Culpeo-Fox Bambastarde :iconculpeo-fox:Culpeo-Fox 5,324 274

Groups

Here is one of my wanderings absorbed into canvas: 
Lavender and blue suggest to you 
the wild edge of spring 
when I was alone on a narrow lupine trail. 

The subtle hues of moss present the viridian wet cove 
at Copa de Oro where I divined the highway north.

White and cerulean contemplate the sky before dawn
where magenta bleeds into grey 
and you and I can breathe again 
at the horizon.
  • Listening to: hummingbirds
  • Reading: A Reader's Manifesto

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Artist | Literature
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Comments


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:iconjjackm:
jjackm Featured By Owner Feb 7, 2014   Traditional Artist
Thanks he is quite a painter. I took a workshop with him, rcsexton.com/
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:iconjjackm:
jjackm Featured By Owner Jun 15, 2011   Traditional Artist
I'm glad you like the painting, it is hanging in a show now, no ribbon though.
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:iconmyfallfromgrace:
myfallfromgrace Featured By Owner Jun 15, 2011   Writer
...yet...:)
Reply
:iconyouinventedme:
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Nov 28, 2009   Writer
Reply
:iconelenabazu:
ElenaBazu Featured By Owner Nov 1, 2009  Professional Interface Designer
thanks so much :hug:
Reply
:iconyouinventedme:
YouInventedMe Featured By Owner Oct 24, 2009   Writer
thanks for the :+fav: on this is why we don't have nice things, my dear


:heart:!
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:iconbeaple:
Beaple Featured By Owner Jul 1, 2009
I've just ruined a perfectly good shirt trying to pull it over my newly inflated head - no thanks to YOUR complimenting me.

A lot of good you've done me.

(see? like it was sarcastic, but now it's not - it's literal! I wish I could say I did that on purpose - but it was realized post facto [after the fact])
Reply
:iconmyfallfromgrace:
myfallfromgrace Featured By Owner Jul 2, 2009   Writer
yeah i had to take logic / latin in college ;)
(enjoyed the shirt visual) :D
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:iconbeaple:
Beaple Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2009
lol, I was being redundant. Post facto sounds almost self-explanatory. Although someone could have possibly thought I got cut off and meant to say something about the Post cereal factory. Then we might have a whole different issue. And we'd need bowls.
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:iconmyfallfromgrace:
myfallfromgrace Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2009   Writer
unfortunately post does not make coco krispies so i will pass. :D
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