December 2011
45 posts
4 tags
i see you shivering.
kerosene me.
light me up in a trash can,
i want to keep you warm.
3 tags
standing by an open door.
i waited for you.
i prayed,
i pray,
i wait still.
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misunderstood. (a tiny story)
sure,
the wind was a troublemaker
making messes of dresses, hairdos, and trees.
but really,
he was just yelling earnestly
at the top of his voice:
“notice me, notice me, notice me please!”
.
.
(A TINY STORY FOR HITRECORD.)
4 tags
two things,
check out my new photography blog:
SUN PIXELS *PIECES OF THE SUN*
where i will be posting photographs
i take (i just got a new camera),
and text to go with them.
also: the last of the Christmas sales,
get my new book: “empty” for 25% off
if you use the code ONEMORETHING.
happy evening to all,
-the dust dances too
4 tags
something forgotten.
i whispered something, i forget what.
a curse, a prayer. maybe i love you.
something ordinarliy infinite like that.
something light enough to be taken away
by the wind as soon it left my lips.
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inside on a december day (flying).
i remember summer like last week.
not the details really,
just the leftover feelings
hiding from the winter chill
inside pockets and seashells;
the little things that stick with you,
and when stumbled upon,
(after an absence)
make you smile.
like the sensation of sunlight on skin,
the sweet, salty taste of the ocean’s breath
inhaled after a kiss,
or the brief moment
when you...
7 tags
a blizzard of poetry.
just a little announcement:
if you wanted to get my book
now is the time to do it, you’ll get 25% off
your purchase—
(perhaps add: jayarrarr’s “Veritas”?)
—if you use the code ONE MORE THING
at checkout. (they may be good items
to have on your bookshelf for the year 2012
if perhaps you were to get snowed in,
or were hungry for words, or hiding
from...
4 tags
raindrops on the passenger side window.
tears.
veins, bleeding.
tiny drops of stars
catching bits of lost light
as they meet, swallow
each other,
and then separate,
streaking
across the glass
before disappearing
into the night.
4 tags
december 26th.
the cat paws
at colorful ribbons
peeking out
from beneath a pile
of discarded
wrapping paper,
and the fire ebbs away
to nothing.
4 tags
a tiny story a day keeps the tiny doctors away:...
sometimes i get lost
in the constellations
on your face.
.
.
A TINY STORY FOR HITRECORD.
5 tags
a christmas eve blizzard, with you.
i never knew a storm
could be so quiet, so bashful.
maybe now our timid hearts
will speak loud enough to be heard?
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flashlights and sheet forts.
we’re shadows,
we’re silhouettes
acting silly,
sharing secrets of secrets
underneath sheets
until we fall asleep
to the falling silence
of snowflakes
on the roof.
6 tags
a misty december afternoon.
the air is haunted.
(i can feel it)
cold, hollow
like a grave
on the back of my neck,
in my lungs;
every breath misses you,
every breath remembers.
4 tags
i can be cool, if i try.
i put sunglasses on
so i can look into the sky
i put sunglasses on
so you can’t see me cry.
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when i go.
squeeze out my heart
so the last drops of my love
drip into the earth.
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tiny stories, vol. 2
here <- is a collection of new tiny stories
i’m submiting for vol. 2 of “the tiny book
of tiny stories”, check them out, heart them
if you like my stories & are a hitrecorder.
if you aren’t on hitrecord, sign up and start
recording your own stuff, & check out other
sweet work! (some favorites of mine to
check out: wirrow, and mirtle.)
5 tags
my brother. (we swallow the sun)
we roar,
in the night,
in our dreams,
with pens,
and parched throats
we scream
hoping to awake
the sun.
we used to reach
for dandelions,
for plastic moons
on mobiles,
we did,
when we were young,
but now we’ve grown,
now we’re brave
brave enough
to reach for stars,
and everything,
everything,
everything beyond.
.
.
.
dedicated to:
my brother (weswallowthesun)
...
6 tags
chimney smoke.
i
know we wont
last,
but if you hold my hand,
we can pass the moon
and reach the stars
before we expire.
or we can just lie here
in the troposphere
until the wind
swallows us.
4 tags
a ghost, between the sycamores.
i forgot how much i loved remembering you,
but then i wept, remembering the reasons
why i wanted to forget.
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510 AM.
whisper to me
in the quiet of snow,
in the static of broken radios;
we’re connected still
by an old frequency.
6 tags
to: a vintage thespian.
there’s nothing
more mischievious
then the winter air
falling from chilly skies
tangling with your hair
and hiding those pretty eyes,
as you hide behind a scarf
acting bashful.
5 tags
the beginning.
i’ve come to the end.
(to find you)
the end,
to the edge of time
and all that is finite.
where all that dies and decomposes
disappears into morning light,
swallowed by breath
from an eternal star.
(this is where my heart takes me)
where love begins
and ends, and continues,
and continues,
and continues,
(continue with me)
this is where i find you,
this is where we find each...
4 tags
this all seems very deja vu.
sometimes i feel like today
is just a mediocre yesterday,
regifted,
recycled,
wrapped up nicely
in a brightly flushed sunrise
to look new.
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eclipse.
with fingers intwined
our hearts aligned,
and the moon blushed
as we kissed.
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shipwrecked on the couch.
let’s pretend
the carpet is an ocean of sharks
like we used to, when we used to
stay here, snuggled up together
for days.
5 tags
winter, beginning.
kiss me,
if you don’t mind,
before these first few flakes
of snow melt away to nothing.
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the end of a day.
defiant bits of cloud
are breaking free,
growing wings,
and flying into the sun.
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vitamin c (or d).
everyone should have
three to four glasses
of sunshine a day.
5 tags
socialmediaoverload.
i figured i’d do this,
and get it out of the way.
find the dust dancing
on twitter: dustdancestoo
on facebook: official page
on hitrecord: thedustdancestoo
so, yes. there it is.
also, so you don’t become
a recluse watching a screen,
i encourage everyone (& myself)
to go outside and drink a little
sunshine.
love you all,
the dust dances too.
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i have a secret.
come back around nine
and i’ll tell you mine, but
will you tell me yours?
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excerpt from a letter. dated may 16th, 1886.
i knew emily dickinson.
i knew everything about her.
every fear,
every empty night
and that burning light in her eyes
as she dissected the world.
i knew her when i heard a songbird,
or felt a tree’s heart beating,
i knew they must be pieces of her pen,
her heart. her soul.
i knew emily dickinson,
but she never knew—
to the best of my knowledge—
that i loved her.
6 tags
weather.
a reticent snow
of used up tissues
covering the floor—
am i sick, or just…
sad?
5 tags
never wake Tomorrow up
before it’s ready to wake,
it can be rather grumpy.
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i have a good ending.
please tell me
the story of the scar
on your upper lip.
i don’t care how long
it takes to tell,
just let me finish it
with a kiss.
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if you were a book,
i’d never want
to reach the last page.
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we all just need a little love.
i know you feel like
a charlie brown tree
surrounded in a hollywood lot
filled with flashy aluminum—
but that’s what makes you
beautiful,
that’s what makes you,
you.
6 tags
a film i made.
just in case
anyone likes flickering images,
and tiny little films.
here is one i made called:
paper turtle
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i want you to leave
an imprint in the palm
of my hand
because you held it
for so long.
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december 1st.
i’ll be in the front yard
every single night,
wearing christmas lights
so you notice me.