Musings In The Third Dimension | by Amira K Makansi
The first thing I loved about America was that it was colorful, vibrant, wild, and strange. There was more to see on that tiny little island than I could explore in a lifetime. I lived in a mostly-white suburb, but that wasn’t America. America was New York. America was the world. America was everything.
Read MoreThe Colorado River carves through two countries, Seven states, And half the history of the world. They say it took seventeen million years (What patience, what strength!) To carve a line so deep you cannot see the bottom. To think that you and I Achieved the same feat In a single day (Our strength Is of a…
Read MoreI don’t have a lot of time to do things right now, so instead of writing something meaningful I’ve decided to put up a series of photos I’ve taken of my surroundings here in California. I don’t have much else to say about this post, except that the photos are a combination of landscapes, portraits, iPhone…
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 MoreDon’t think for a moment that you meant nothing You were as the sun that lifts the fog. You were as a breath of wind that moves a dune of sorrow And carries it to the seas. Don’t think for a moment that you meant nothing You were a raindrop against the veined leaf Magnifying…
Read MoreA sun-drenched moment in the afternoon When the black eyes of the field light into a thousand candles, Sweaty and shining pure green, Illuminates my memory With thoughts of those who have come and gone. Ghosts walk between these trees Lingering, Stygian, tucked into shadows, into The space between the raindrops And the veined blooming leaves.…
Read MoreNever would Thoreau have thought That one day, the sight of a simple creek Would be so rare, so strange, so uncommon That it might bring tears to the eyes of a passer-by As I was. Thirsty, Awestruck by the green grass, the minnows flickering The crinkled sound of water dripping over grey rock A…
Read MoreI have a deep and abiding respect for poets. Poetry, I think, is among the hardest of art forms to do well; it requires a painter’s skill with imagery and visualization, a musician’s sense of rhythm and beat, a writer’s craft with words and metaphors, and a philosopher’s or a monk’s contemplative view of the…
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The Z-Axis 