

"Knock on" Wooden Windows Perched atop"Knock on" Wooden Windows by ~Ke-
He knocks on wood
Or moreso taps goodluck; chipping away
At our tree of telephone wires
As if to say
When he twists his beak toward me
That he is just one raindrop
Responsible for the storm
Tap upon my shoulder, again upon my pate
I hide behind windows
With Feigning views
Each tap upon this vision
Turning the wear into wood grain
Though vision is vapor in the sun
Roots grow from it's forgotten falls
So return the song birds
And their nests noisy
Though my bird Comes not at daybreak
And he brings no voice to
The morning song;
He brings more luck
So I might paint the visions
Before the storm


Drawn by the rain Drawn in centuries of rainDrawn by the rain by ~Ke-
Strong, a cliff face; Mei made no attempt to open her eyes although years of rain wrote their travels on her deep eyes and sunken cheeks. Her breath -- once in and out like gentle ocean tides -- now dry, held tight the raging wind; later to let loose the ghosts that etched away creases from her mouth to her throat. Into her chest, she contained the dangerous airs of the east. Captured in stone, her lungs stared paralyzed and cold as the canary cage. Remnants of snow rumbled in her canyons. Once they were white storms. They coarsed into the ravine gathering darkness, rumbling out of the quiet.
Two young boul


The northern sky The northern skyThe northern sky by ~Ke-
A stone. He strikes upon her stoic cliffs
Her surface dampens. Nonetheless. The northern sky is bright though cold above the cloud gates
Part I
As sun sets the guiding lights
No more a hardened rock
Comes to the aged visage of dusk
Gathered from the oceans
That circle her island in the clouds
The weathered storm strikes again
From within
Her perfect face crumbles
Producing rocks
Jagged, into the river
Smaller. Smaller.
Divided. Her womb is rain. Pebbles striking back against the river that runs through her!
Hail. Hail!
Empty. Her body a chasm. Reckless is the carving of her face. The scars carried