Coral Estelle: Favorites

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Marigold

Your face doesn't seem to belong there,
On your head.
A child supplied with glue,
You stuck it there.
I don't believe you when you say it was always there.

And all the dimensions of the universe have changed,
reversed,
In some kind of dream land
Where nothing can be trusted
Not your face nor your voice nor your scent.

Watch out! I say
They're coming closer,
What if they can tell.
And i study your face to see if you've heard me,
Did my voice sound out, or was it just in my head?

For now my mind has no limits
It is thrown about by a misplaced equilibrium,
Which has forgotten it's own limits
It's own basis of equality.

So I take your hand in mine,
And your hand becomes me, as I become You
and we try our best to run,
Although everything conspires against us,
And we laugh in our secret escaping.

Little Strangers Divide. Lemons Smell Deadly. Lost Sleeping Daughters.

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Animatronic

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Chandler Lauren

Animatronic

I think sometimes you forget that I'm real.
Days pass by, a text message in the midmorning.
Another later in the afternoon.
Its been a while since you've told me "Goodnight".
It hasn't gone so undetected.
I keep myself defended. No photos, no updates online to remind
You that I'm human.
I've come to this conclusion as I drift further from you.
(not by my will)
I know it because I believe that when you and I are face to face once more,
When you hear my voice speak your name,
Hear its hollow inflections,
And see the shadows in my eyes,
You will remember.
It may not change everything or anything at all, but perhaps I'll no longer be
A robot, fictional character, or fading memory.

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Untitled

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

PK Wakefield

Untitled

there is an old man who is dying inside me
he lies by a pale ocean
his eyes are and mouth mouth crawls with
ladybugs Spring is there
her lips are full of chafe and brightness hangs
about a flower less
petals each into the wind next to a pale ocean
where there is an
old man who inside of me is dying

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Nicholas Harris

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Where almost nothing ever happens and the universe sits mostly still, where indie music is life and where photography is heaven. Where silence is golden and life is absolute. Where we all wish to be, and where only a select few of us can go and handle it.

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Where we lie in limbo, waiting for the sun to come up, the moon to go down, the median between life and whats left of the dark decay of lifelessness. Where Your eyes open wide, where your thoughts wander into the void of the infinite. Where we wait to see the beginning, the middle, and the end.

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Welcome to the dead, the living, the mourning, the crying, the sad, the happy, the over energetic, the under enthusiastic, the over enthusiastic, the insomniac, the insane, the beautiful, the quiet, the peaceful, the thoughtless and thoughtful, the kind, the caring, the listeners, the wonderful and magnificent, the open minded and wide eyed sleepless.

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Where we wander, searching for answers in our sleep. Where we wait for contact and a view into what we think is the future, and where here, we wait for the future. Where we sleep only to be dreaming of our answers we are searching for and never getting the full answer to questions like-
"Who am I?"
"What am I?"
"Who do I love?"
"Who loves me?"
"Why am I here?"
"What awaits me today?"
"Who thinks of me?"
"Who are my friends?"
"Who are my foes?"
"Who are the friendless?"
"Who am I to judge someone?"
"Who are they to judge me?"
"What is left for there to question if I already know the answers to my questions?"

This is what we ask, and wait for...

Welcome to 4 A.M.

Where our mindless infinite, grows! To be ever infinite into the oblivion of exaggerated proportions and ridiculous time! Where everything meets the beginning, the middle and the end. Where life dies, starts, and lives once more for us as humanity to enjoy through one more day, for us to catch our breath, and to breathe the dead and living. For our eyes to capture the very beauty of life through blinking as if our eyes where the lens to a camera and our brains the film to feed it.

All in one quiet, peaceful, beautiful, and insane, hour. Everything lives, dies, and starts over again.

Welcome to the beginning, the middle, and the end.
Welcome to 4 A.M.
Welcome to life.

Good morning.

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Somehow I Think of You When Taking Notes On The French Invasion of Russia.

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Jeremy Duff

Somehow I Think of You When Taking Notes On The French Invasion of Russia.

The smoke curls towards the sky.
At a different point in time our bodies curled together.
But, that was, indeed, a different point in time.
And trembling on the remembrance of the past is silly.

As I was saying, before the past rushed in like a wave,
A wave that crashes over the sea barriers,
and sweeps away the fleeing tourists,
that the smoke curls towards the sky.

It slowly diffuses into the foggy, white air.
Diffuses isn't the correct word though.
We are not talking about liquids moving from
an are of high concentration to one of low concentration.

As I was saying, before scientific vocabulary interrupted me
just as the attacks on towers interrupted to 2001
Major League Baseball Season, the smoke slowly crept
up into the sky, into the wet November air.

As it combines itself with the fog, just as we
combined our hearts through our hands in the hot July
dog days. Although the dog days really weren't
as bad as they have been in previous years.

Anyway, as I was saying, before remembrance of old loves
snuck into my mind, much as the thought of you does
in History, while I'm trying to learn about the French invasion
of Russia. Or the **** (Or the Roman) invasion of Russia.

Oh, **** it. This is pointless.
I'll never get anywhere with this ******* smoke
curling to the ******* sky.
So, **** it. I'll just watch the smoke curl
and be content.

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Connection

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Isoindoline

Connection

Sometimes I feel as if I've missed the train,
even though my ticket says otherwise.

Its angular writing ought to puncture the dream,
yet I find myself staring the other way down the tracks.

So I walk down the platform until it comes to an end,
wondering what destination might have been.

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Ride

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Isoindoline

Ride

I opened the car door, tossed my bag in
I was just about to slip inside when
An older man, 60 I might guess
limping down the sidewalk paused to ask:

"St. Mary's Hospital?"

My head snapped up
"What?" I asked.

"St. Mary's Hospital.  Is it this way?"

I frowned
"Yes," I replied.

"Do you know how much farther?"

"About half a mile.  Why?"

He raised his hand up, wrapped in white
red stain seeping through

My breath caught

"I've cut my finger, and I think I may need stitches."
Then he turned and limped away

"Wait," I called.  "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

He nodded, hardly turning around.

I asked again, "Are you sure?"
Should I offer him a ride?
It's only a minute out of my way.

He didn't turn or nod then, just continued on
His steps were slow, erratic, but determined
Should I offer him a ride?
I watched his back recede

Should I offer him a ride?

I could no longer hear his shuffling feet

Should I offer him a ride?

Should I offer him a ride?

I didn't.  I got in my car and left.  And cried.
Because I wouldn't offer an old hurt man a ride.

This happened this morning. I was too afraid to offer a hurt stranger a half-mile ride to the hospital in my car because I am female and I was alone. If he had been an old woman it would have been different. I felt (and still feel) horrible, because my decision was informed by fear, and the fact that I have been sexually harassed by various men recently. Those are things that I have always said would not inform my decisions. Today I was tested, and today I failed.

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Ecstasy

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Ayaba Babe

Ecstasy

My hands glide over her body
My body glides in tune with hers.
The urge,
The need, the incredible temptation.
The suddenly surreal sensation.
Hands instinctly find their slippery way down her braziere;
Touching her there
Touching her here.
Carefully caressing her
Beautiful
Flawless twin triple scoops of creamy delicious vanilla ice cream.
Eyes abeam.
I pinch my ******* hard, my teeth longing to wrap themselves around hers.
Insatiable, rationable; moment deferred.
I'd love to stay and devour her, but my way must be made.
Body contact and relations, hormones fail to fade.
Raging.
I make my way with the heat on high.
Blast on full.
Clothes flying against the car wall.
Driving with both hands down my pants
Underestimating chance.
Not even the night can cool me down.

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Rain

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Erica

Rain

I miss you.

I went hoping to feel you.  Encompassing me in the breeze,
Grazing my skin with the sun.
Memories surrounded me but I couldn't feel you.
Disappointment made a nest, he settled in the hole in my chest.
In retrospect, I know you were there.  Standing behind me as I sat on that cardboard box upon the hill.
Then came the rain.
A sprinkle at first, then fat, salty drops.  Standing there, eyes closed I begged to you let me feel you.
I didn't know then, but I saw you.  In the empty shells open, vulnerable in the sand.  I saw you in the green grass, dancing in the wind.  In the sky, a quick turning grey.  I saw you in the trees to my right and the small waves before me.  I saw you, love.

I miss you.

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

The Red Poppy

Dec 2012 Coral Estelle

Louise Glück

The Red Poppy

The great thing
is not having
a mind. Feelings:
oh, I have those; they
govern me. I have
a lord in heaven
called the sun, and open
for him, showing him
the fire of my own heart, fire
like his presence.
What could such glory be
if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters,
were you like me once, long ago,
before you were human? Did you
permit yourselves
to open once, who would never
open again? Because in truth
I am speaking now
the way you do. I speak
because I am shattered.