Crossing Lines

Photographer — William Albert Allard

 

Crossing Lines
100 Words

There it is, I feel it again, something extraordinary, otherworldly caught within the movement of air, a silent hullabaloo. Sometimes it arrives riding the scented tide of sandalwood and musk, other times it arrives drenched in that of sweet ambrosia, this is life. During these moments, I’m at the mercy of the unknown, an invisible breeze that’s magical and mystical, much like the rush of my lover’s breath against my skin. The flutter, beauty in motion, sheets to the wind, the ebb and flow of the here and now. When the spirit’s gone, the music stops, until you’re home again.

 

“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”
― Kahlil Gibran


Mazzy Star – “
Fade Into You”                                                                       *     *     *     *

 

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Benzodiazepines

Imagine by Sammy Slabbinck

 

Benzodiazepines
Higgledy-Piggledy Sleepwalking

I am allusion, illusion, a figment of beautiful:
yesterday’s forty-ninth parallel, the anniversary
march of one thousand predestined millenniums yet to be.
I am the distance between a lone point and a counterpoint:
righteous red dissidence. When dark, I am the cosmic weight of
an imploding black star and the buoyancy of nothing, the
separation immeasurable, its equivalency:
the gravity of silence — heavier than Uranium,
the element of unfounded intention that eludes the
square seventh face of a cube and the fourth primary color.

 

Copyright © 2018 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.

 

Gesundheit

The Alligator People — Film Still 1959

 

Gesundheit


Heil. Heil! Herr Alligator! Look at you
and your accumulation of pretty:
all shiny trinkets, sparkling bobbles dressed
in disguise as flesh and bone. Your coos, woos,
escape a deceitful craggy mouthed grin
speaking in sanctimonious tongues, lips
smack: plenitude of servitude. You’re green’s
envy, ego and duality, eyes
slits of gold truth, yet — the rest — lies, lies, lies.
You goose-step in treacherous unison,
two by two, zwei mal zwei, four feet do that
as your arresting heart quips telltale beats,
got-cha, got-cha. Achoo, shoo-shoo, I’m through
with you, you’re best suited tanned and hard-pressed
as some forlorn baggage or lone lost shoe.

 

Copyright © 2018 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.

 

The Padded Pool

Francesca Woodman, Untitled, Boulder, Colorado, 1972-1975

 

The Padded Pool


Birthed from merciful brine
And a primal language of silence
Deprivation soon realized as enduring loss
The warmth of weighted water gave freely
A harbor for emotions: sad and very sad

 

“…she didn’t do a lot more for you than give birth to you. In case you’re wondering, we—the family—were always aware of this, but there wasn’t much we could do…”
— Anon


Two Feet – “I Feel Like I’m Drowning

 

Copyright © 2018 Mia Pharaoh. All rights reserved.