I want yellow and blue wings

I am pulled into my back. Nubs of wings want to sprout.

It fucking hurts to grow wings out of this calcified chest cage.

Pushing, through flesh, wounded thin at the surface. Sap oozes, trickles down and pools, a little ocean, a salty bath for all the micro-organisms living in the small of my back.

The body absorbs.

The sea evaporates and is renewed,

one inch less.

Millions live, millions die. This goes on for a long time.

The  salt tang, the liquid pooling, the body absorbing,

water sliding, sap oozing, forming eddies.

Taste snaps me back:  this is a spiral pulling in on itself.

Something vital is being drained while I lie, face down in this cool, sunlit room. Rest does not follow this waiting.

There is a depth,

and a wide open sky,

a golden field stretching to horizons.

I need to walk it. On and on, through the day, sipping water, warmer than my breath, little laps to make it last.

Ahhhh, another blast in the middle of my mouth, stretching me thin into a wisp of cloud.

Vapour calls to vapour, clouds coalesce, densify

and rain over me,

my naked body, lying flat on a field of rape yellow, blue flax in my mind’s eye,

tongue out, waiting to receive.



  1. Keira,

    This is exactly the process of thinking through space as a visual and textual marriage that is at once violent, seductive, and playful that it stands as an unbelievable example for some of the work students in creative writing here at UMW are trying to work through with their poetry and images.

    I suggested that they use their blog space as a place to marry their writing process with visuals as an attempt to mark their language yet also change the experience. This form is so ripe for it, and I think your post here embodies everything I thought this should look like. It’s awesome, I have a great piece to show them as an example of what I’m talking about, because until now I didn’t really have one that nailed it so perfectly.


  2. Gardner, Jim,

    That you like it- well, that makes me feel good. It’s sunny on the inside and out here in Vancouver today.

    This piece came from a class I’m doing with Ingrid Rose “writing from the body”.

    Last night we explored taste and smell. Those old senses are like a time machine.

  3. wow. you captured winter, the cocoon, and made me long for summer. beautiful.

  4. whoosh. wow. fantastic. Thank you so much for a trip through space buck naked with no expectations – just loads of anticipation. Damn girl….skilz.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s