Zabira Silver's blog
Sick and tired, I close my shaking eyes
Trying to wash out my hollow mouth
Water pounds upon my shoulders and I cough
As steam rises, to the dawning sky off the wooden floor Read more »
Emerging from my cotton-down dreams,
pillows roiling from wild thoughts of the id,
eyelashes dusted with the sand of sleep
the world is blurred and warm.
I shift and flannel rustles, marshmallow static sparks
under my bones, knees and hips
cradled by nylon and springs.
I pull myself under my cave of covers, I am Read more »
Attempting to calm my blittering brain,
I frolloxed into the flumpy night,
the trees in the streets throshing with rain,
the sky a-xundering with floxy might.
I martled a while, not sure what to do
as the birds shreeped in the crabbling fray
and tweepers in their beds huddled afru
so sny Snuckleheads wouldn't snorket them away!
And as all this fuffling happened around,
I took in my ears a flensing sound,
the snap-clap of lightning, brittle and bray,
and the pippering in my head slowly passed away.
when the snow melts
(if it ever
in my room, you might find
rows of nail polish, shining,
clamoring to be worn.
You might find
though their color will have faded
spread into the melting snow
and they would lie, soft and wrinkled,
on the wet rug.
You might find
a warped bass guitar,
thick strings crackling from the ice in between,
body warped from water and time,
each deep note would sound bent,
if you played it.
if the snow ever melts in my room,
you'd find reams and reams of books -
notebooks, drawing books, fiction and nonfiction -
pages all stuck together
words finally bleeding into one another, set free from their pages,
making a massive blur of text -
one mighty story, no longer readable
all the same.
Would you not like to know
that on this earth
are 7 billion residents
of the same race as you?
Presto! They grow!
From the dark glow
of their mother's womb
they emerge, to undergo -
if nothing else -
Away we go.
You never know
who you will know
outside your home, my friend, lies the world;
it awaits your first
She stumbled home so sloshed
the lights dimmed and danced around her,
so insensitive was she
to the weeds on her land
and the dust in her house, so insensitive,
as she clung to her last keepsake, a charm
once on a fine-linked bracelet, now held to her wrist Read more »
no, please, i couldn't bear
hearing my own pleas in the windless air,
alone in my room with a heartbeat, no,
please, i couldn't listen
to my empty hands in an empty bed,
couldn't live in a room filled with my own smell, i couldn't
live in only
my own skin,
not with you
sitting right next to me, not with you
breathing in my atmosphere, looking in my eyes,
filling up my empty hands and staining my sheets
with words, promises of comfort, promises of love, trust,
how you will keep me
safe, warm, happy.
please, i couldn't bear
to face the dark of unfinished laughter
take me in your hand
crush my spine to marble dust.
let me be.
i'm done playing.
i used to submerge myself under the water and try to grasp
at the silvery strands gold light that tripped and twinkled in the H2O structure
i tried to grasp
and become the ripples in the water and the light and lift
myself up from the sentient bundle of darkness i could feel on my back -
so make me a shroud
out of sunlight that skips on the surface of the sea,
make me a shroud
out of waterfalls and love and when it rips i will patch it up
with constellation patterns from your universe -
it doesn't even matter that we don't see the same sky -
won't the stars always burn for you?
and won't they always burn
for me? and can't we
tear through dark matter on a night with no moon and find ourselves
in each other's arms?
how sickly sweet their overshading fades as they erase,
the Sculptor watches as their paints & easels are packed away,
He touches her newly painted face, now in colored gaudy grace,
brushing off the last trace of rust & decay.
He had found me, He said,
in a block of cold stone,
inside veinéd ivory my silhouette had shone
and so He had chipped me out,
and now I stand before Him,
with an unmoving mouth I try to tell him I adore Him,
but He is too busy, his critival 'eye' roving,
and the 'I' i see tells me
His heart is not for Loving.
so i will stand here as his statue, 'til Venus thinks i've learned
enough to be Alive and Free, and leave him as i've earned.
(We have universes contained inside our tiny snowflake dandelion bodies, so we will never know ourselves, or each other, until we realize that we can be anything we wish or do not wish to be.)
I remember when you hovered over me and time froze for a second and I could see the roots of you, tumbling past your wings into the cosmic wind, and the irises of your hazel eyes expanded into a million branches and your arms and legs made a fortress of bone and branch around me. Your exhalations switched to oxygen and finally, finally I could get close to you and not suffocate. I watched your soul unfold in that pocket of time created by our symmetry. You were not infinite, and neither was I. We were not any different before or after, save the memories to be tucked away. The next time I took a breath I choked slightly on your carbon dioxide and you slid away, branches tucking themselves back into your universe. You stood up and stretched, grinning at me. (Perhaps, indeed, I was the only one changed.)
i. i warned you that i need to be alone.
you have seen it every time you push,
a wall of dark and stone behind my eyes
has been tightening its grip around my mind.
ii. every time i try and peel the shell off my skin,
all you tell me is that you are hurt.
i am exposing my true blood to you,
it turns red beneath your ocean breath.
iii. this is an event caused by pressure, caused by
indirect suggestion and a forward flood of emotion
bowling me over and burning saltwater into my eyes
i have forgotten which way is up.
iv. you have managed to squeeze my heart of its oxygen
and still whisper to it which way to turn.
v. i want you out of my head.
Every day I am swept down your current,
I meet you in the same places,
do the same things.
Every day I come to you prepared,
and every day I leave,
If I am honest, I will say
that you are the thread
which constantly works at mending my broken chrysalis;
inside, my fully-formed and fingered self
clamours to shake you off,
to expand beyond you,
my safety blanket,
(You have kept me warm and acted as a dim light,
only to flicker and reduce to smoke
whenever my tears fall on your shoulder.)
You said once to me,
"You need sunlight." Yet
you wrap me in the ocean of your arms
and I am helpless.
I sink to the bottom, reaching
for the last shards of sunlight
wavering on the distant surface.
You are my room of solace
padded on every side,
a blinding but stained white.
You keep me muffled,
you keep me safe,
you keep me hidden.
(I have not looked through my own eyes in a year.)
I fall into the pillow of your chest
wrap myself in your straightjacket sweater
A boy of seven stands
in a box
with a sword,
his shining helm
a simple boiling pot,
his chest guard
a piece of cardboard
His expression is one of
curious rage, as if
his friend playing the dragon
had truly destroyed his castle -
an idyllic home
for a young knight,
with turrets & mossy stone & secret doors
between two lakes -
the dragon roars, and
in the wake of the sound,
the knight stands his ground,
are wasted tears.
(You are strong, and you can cry.
You can always cry.
You can always be strong.)
Let what comes out, come out.
It will surge through you like an ocean,
and eventually, you will taste
this specific tang of saltiness
on your lips
for the last time.
For now, let your emotions run their course.
You deserve to feel.
I am desperate in the way that rain falls
and flows and finds a stream and binds to other rain and falls;
I'm desperate in the way that horses run when wind comes
and their manes dance and their hooves fall with the rain and the wind
crashing, I am desperate
like the leaves torn from their trees
that bury themselves in the earth, I am desperate
like the stars that are extinct but shine,
to us, anyway, while their light is still moving -
I am desperate
like your closed
eyes stay closed
when you feel you are alone.
I am desperate.
I am gasping
through clenched teeth,
blood oozes from my gums and lips, I am
pouring my life
into your shaking
your fingers aren't tight enough and
the horses fall as
the wind comes crashing as
the river comes singing and my eyes
as your shaking hands
and your fingers
aren't tight enough and I am desperate because
I'll slip away
if you can't hold on.
I'll miss the way you smell
& your overarching voice.
(When you want to throw it across a room,
I'll miss your sandy hair
& your hunched shoulders.
(You are one of the few people I trust enough
to bite or nuzzle
without being stared at weirdly.)
I'll miss your small hands
& wide eyes
& the silent nods & smirks of bro-dom
we share across rooms.
I will miss your adfgkjkdsdhafjlkgfls
& the way that no matter how awkward you are,
you're always genuine.
You were my first
real friend here, & you were my first
real ally anywhere.
no matter where you go or
how you change or
how I change, I will always
stand with you.
& I meant it, too.
Every time I see it on my bedroom wall, I still mean it.
& I'm watching myself dig deep roots and grow strong branches
up out of the earth, tied to an endless network,
breathing in sync with my still-tender leaves -
I will reach my prime, and then
I will descend. Time is on the move.
& I will find you,
I will gather
your limp limbs & set them back
into their place and pluck
stray heartbeats & tuck
in your chest, where they belong.
I will trace the outline
of your cheekbone again, & your strong hips
& your graspable hair & soft lips
find me again.
& Time is
compared to the endless universe you hold
in your hands & the deep
fire that burns in your chest
& you can breathe,
you will breathe,
and I will grow and give you room to breathe,
my tender leaves will brush
your hands as you climb into me.
& Life is
anything but long,
anything but short -
we will make it exactly as it is, and
somehow that will be enough, and
whatever forever ends up meaning,
I will be glad to have spent it well. Read more »
A car without a realconsciousexistingpresentsoberhappy driver -
Shattered windsheilds - broken glass,
crunch under my
bare feet as I
view a never-ending
in my head that never
and I wonder why
such an image stayed in my head
all of yesterday and why
word/thought choices like highway
and the ever-implied
appear on my screen and I
can see the blood
running from their heads as each dying breath is held in -
at me and a thought/word/memory runs
through bleeding brains -
painpainpainlossgriefplanetslosthusbandssistersbrotherswiveschildrenlost - simple -
I feel like all of time & space
& like shit
being a teenager
takes all the dignity
out of dissecting
& I am sorry
I become so entranced
as I read other's words & I am sorry
that I rely so heavily
on objects that I can clench with my fist,
the shallow curve of my wrist flicks tears away from my face as I
so lost, again, so lost
put on paper, but I read
dangerous, because poetry
has a nasty way of telling
I am lost
in other people's words today,
sifting and swimming through the text I read on a bright screen
and I betray you -
you, sir -
through reading these words
and believing in
messages that are always there no matter where I am
in space & time, they travel
with me and their deceptive stillness
on the screen does not stop them from climbing out
and wrapping themselves around my mind.
Poetry, my friend,
It will stay there long after you are gone.
It will stay there,
long after the we
is gone - we
as in us,
a unit, a together-ness -
the poems will stay there
those words hold current meaning.
I read somewhere, once, that
"If a writer falls in love with you,
I laid down today and whispered to the ground,
"I am sorry, my old friend - I have misjudged you.
I am sorry
that you are sick."
The wind stroked my hair and face
with a whisper -
Every step I take today
is an apology - I curl my toes
into the blades of grass,
and they curl back in response.
I run my fingers
over the waking earth, trusting it
for the first time
Now whatever you have to do -
My head feels
like it should be cracking
open and dribbling phlegm
all over the carpet and
the back of my
swollen throat has
and the rushing in my ears
has made everything else
hard to hear over my heart
pounding in my head, forcing
blood through because my body
hasn't given up on me yet but damn
does it suck
to be sick
and I overheat
I can't eat