Musings In The Third Dimension | by Amira K Makansi
I am afraid of so many things I cannot count them all. like failure, for instance there are uncountably many ways to fail and I am afraid of all of them. or sadness and its harsher twin, weakness. I fear them both. yes, darkness too there’s a reason I don’t go out to howl at…
Read MoreTonight, I will sleep in the garden Buried under rocks and sand A man will come with a rake every now and then To carve lines into my body And he will say “The flowers are sweet today.” At night when the lights are quiet The moon like a sea shell washed ashore by a…
Read MoreThe sky is bright today The sky is bright today Pitter-patter, says the rain, beating on my thigh My hands are alive The water falls in myriad ways A fern swallows me The sky is bright today — This poem is meant to accompany this photo, which is a visual representation of an epiphany of…
Read MoreGreat granitic catacombs, hollowed out by flame rust inside my soul. Magma cracks through the crust of my earth, smoking. Metal, molten, seethes at my core; the history of my formation, tumultuous, written in every layer of my skin. Black ash spouts from my mouth, volcanic, I erupt, bursting, spitting, lashing, lava tongues and rocky…
Read More“Sweet, so would I, Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing, Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, That I shall say good night ’till it be morrow.” What a thing, I say, to say, Goodbye. You breathe petals into my ears, Hum bees into my heart. You crystallize In my fragmented…
Read MoreI wrote this poem spur of the moment, as a very dear friend of mine recounted the many ways he loves his fiance. I am so honored to be a part of their story, and to my readers, I cannot honestly recount how deeply their story made me feel, for there are no words to…
Read MoreSlake my thirst, Dirty green of desert oaks, Grey like ash, You brittle clouds, Waiting to break. Tear in the sky, You will sing Against my psalms. I open My hands To you. — Here in Paso Robles, it doesn’t rain a lot. But I was born and raised in a different part…
Read MoreI never thought I’d be the silly writer Who would dare to utter the cliche ‘Your lips were the color of sky’. But here I am, And to say otherwise would be a lie. The sky tonight for perhaps a minute and a half Was the same color as the gunmetal chill Of your lips…
Read Moreit was just today looking out the window of my car that i saw the trees were dying crumpled into paper figures, a parody of their former selves wrenching, like crooked cursed fingers in the direction of the ground and i their killer. I knew this was no simple thing, like a barren grassless prairie…
Read MoreTonight I wield not a pen but a shovel the grain of wood etching into my palm the dirt gritty, clumped against the blade as I dig a shallow grave for the past. Tonight I carry not a pack on my back but skeletons macabre, grisly smiles dangling over my shoulder, my weightless burden, bones…
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The Z-Axis 