sparks

London. Big Ben announcing noon on Peter Pan's magic clock. Second star to the right and morning is over, the sun is high in the sky and I wish I had some fairy dust to enjoy the view. I nod toward the Eye that keeps a close watch on the Thames, following the rubbish--eating--current that flows through the heart of the city.

Old streets, heavy feet, dates that boggle my mind. Energy, smog, double decker expectations. Spectacular greens, yellows, blues and gray sunshine. I navigate the colored lines of the underground and emerge to the delight of people-watching benches. Imaginary lines of time, murder mysteries, and sparks of electricity.

I'Mmortality

i think i write in an attempt to frame. to breathe and move and interact outside of mortality's mysteries. what do i project? i i i i i i. self-centeredself-absorbed fear. a dot within a circle and all that empty space to surround it. what about the other possibilites? the point-to-point connect the dots: what picture do you see? my limbs, my invisible visiblity. an extension of negative space. (not everyone can stay inside the lines)

if i could sign this screen, i would. sarah linnea golv <--- that's not me at all.

just sound

I've become accustomed to walking blissfully down the street without having to strain my ears to eavesdrop, tune-out, or comprehend much of anything. The Danish language remains a mystery to me, and when English does appear in my pastel paradise, it is almost unwelcome, startling. Granted, I am still 100% reliant on the fact that wherever I go, someone will speak English, a handicap I hope to someday remedy. But for these past few months, it has been a gift. I can exist in a bustling, wheel-turning city where sounds, intonations, and lyrics just are. No double-meaning, no sarcasm, no small talk. Just sound waves - coming and going.

th(ings)

Packing (my bags). Slacking (at school). Laughing (at the dog). Waiting (for that first hug). Smiling (too much to look forward to). Pausing (I'm not ready to leave).

just one month left.

pseudo spring

stranded, out of shell
snails that curl and
squish pave my path
to red-streaked, time-
obsessed trains that
splash and blur
my view.

april showers

Spring arrived today!!!

Shy, beautiful spring. It's about time.

as lovers multiply

bewildered mass
i'll contradict
the void that you create
persuasion is a
superman
a counter-act of fate
but what of death
so dark and near
repeated like a song?
the chaos lives
for only love
will miss me when i'm gone

i guess i love
the yours in mine
the keeping of the heart
protection and
security
divide me part by part
the brave retreat
without regret
no battle, field, or cry
you are not one
for all are lost
as lovers multiply

in parts of three
i leave you now
all equal, never whole
the oldest form
is premature
to explain away the soul
how far, how cold
how popular
to dream only to wake?
desert me now
(it's self-involved)
i build, i burn, i stake

out of sorts

self-realization is hard to classify; beauty blurs.