WHERE WE ARE HEADED

100 poems inspired by and based on "La Sylphide", written in 30 days, give or take.
longitudinally: (and i've seen the way)
[personal profile] longitudinally
james sleeps in the meadow. there are such things as meadowlarks and there are sylphs, watching him as he covers his face with his hat to avoid burning in the sun. she trembles at the sight, staying amidst the shadows where she might appear merely another glimmer of light. the moment is blissfully quiet and calm, it doesn’t stir it doesn’t wake. james sleeps in the meadow. the larks dance above his form, the grass he treads down, the flowers squashed beneath his body and how blessed they are, the sylph thinks. how blessed. Someone calls his name, and she wishes it could be her voice that made him sit up and hurry and run. oh, how she wants him to run with her. she would give flight to his feet, but alas. once he is gone, she tiptoes out into the glade and lies down softly in the spot where he lay. he has touched these pebbles, he has touched this corn. she hears him yell, far ahead, a girl’s name. he has almost touched me, she thinks. james slept in the meadow.
longitudinally: (sounds like the vines)
[personal profile] longitudinally
the birds drink the dew
the dew falls from the sky
the sky is honey
the sky is honey

their wings don’t
accept any kind
of wetness
sylphs seek shelter
from the rain
and they must cry
into their hands
so their tears can’t
weigh down their ability
to fly

every feeling has a color
every feeling expresses itself
through the subtle shape of shoulder
and the length of an arm
the delicacy of fingers
that don’t hold
that don’t keep
they don’t claim
the way humans do

men do
men do

the wind changes –
another sister appearing
out of thin air
their kind does not share a conscience
but they share the stories
of what happens
to sylphs
who give their wings over
to the hands of hunters

have you seen a butterfly
with its wings torn
it is the saddest sight
but do not cry on what’s left
it will sink to the bottom
of the well
never to emerge
from the dark depths

there is only one way up
from there

heaven is higher ground

and everything ends
with a loud laughter
that sounds like a sob

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NaNoWriMo 2022

October 2022

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