the heart laid bare

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push
a strange distance
SWIMMING ALWAYS DOWNWARD
A ONCE-FAMILIAR LANDSCAPE
No Apology
the thunder
tinder
VERBAL PORTRAIT OF A CAT OWNER
critical shortage
the sky we thought we knew
CIRCA SOLEM
almanac
baby
dearest orlando
FIVE MONTHS
A LETTER TO THE UNDESERVING
cactus heart
would we
the fall of giants
paradise lost
Dad
after you've gone
time
a smile from the eyes
trepidation
why so cold
fix this
swallow me
untitled 8
insular
cry alone
robin
quicksand
laces
D.I.S.C.
stripped
waving goodbye
your open eyes
enemy within
mortal
untitled 4
sleepless
OUTSIDER
untitled 9
come dream with me
in the face of adversity
one word
the dark of the night
untouchable
one and one makes two
you burn me
see me
this shaken core
my lover
helen
my room
his words
foolish
rita
chalk drawings
the longest night
stupid skeleton
CLOTHES MAKETH
FIRST LASTS
STELLAR
TODAY
I WATCHED A MAN DIE TODAY
THREE WEEKS
this slippery slope
untitled 5
Arrows
First Kiss
The Talk Of Love
Nicotine
Blackout

First Kiss

A first kiss...
So fleeting,
Pregnant with possibility,
Laden with promise;
Or fraught with danger.

Love is a journey, travelling while standing still,
And your footsteps echo
Through the ashes of past flames and shadows of old lovers
In the uninvited company of comparison.

They dog your steps wherever you choose to tread,
Or with whom.

And you learn that those bruised pathways are not always solid -
You can fall into quicksand,
Or loop around and back in upon yourself
And find yourself looking forward, walking backward.
Or the bridges without warning drop away and you tumble
Head first into the swirling waters.

To that first kiss you come alone.
The sweet anticipation,
A moment forever remembered and forever lost.
The promise fulfilled,
Sometimes denied,
The waiting and wanting
Almost better than knowing.

Like a moth too close to the flame,
The exquisite fire on virgin lips
Burns brilliantly for a moment, then is gone.

Lovers come and lovers go,
But a shared first kiss
Drifts like mist straight from imminence to memory,
And lives forever like a hint of perfume
Fading in a vacated room.

© mjc 3 June 2005

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Biography

Daughter, sister, aunt, godmother, friend, public servant; self-confessed hermit, confirmed cat person, sporadic baker, irreformable yarncrafter, voracious reader; occasional wit, voluble shower vocalist, frequent sacrifice on the altar of brain-to-mouth filter fails, random shit-slinger, unrepentant purveyor of puns and dad jokes, writer and poet.

I have always lived by the theory that no matter what you do for a living - if you are compelled to write, if you wake up in the night to scrawl the contents of your dreams on a notebook beside the bed, if no event in your life seems complete without you recording it, if you are drawn to comment upon the world - then you are a writer.

These are my words.