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*Posts from Before the Dawn to Cynicism and a Glass of Wine were written before the blog was created-(July 2008, November 2009- January 2010)

Friday, June 15, 2012


June 14, 2012

Hazy face, hazy dreams.
I am never what I seem.
There is one, and there are two.
Both of which are me, not you.
Though your shadow casts its gaze,
Upon my weak and weary face-
You cannot reach me.

One of me is stronger, harsher still.
The world is hers, but she herself, has killed.
A hard exterior, soft within,
She breaks so easily beneath the skin.
With your knife, you graze her wounds,
You chip and cut and make blood ooze.
But there is another.

The other, she never bleeds.
As hard as rock, her heart as thick as orchid leaves.
She wafts through life, so stoic and still.
You can't break her; you never will.
She feels no love; she feels no pain.
Her every experience feels the same. 

It's her shadow you must watch out for. 

Wednesday, April 18, 2012


Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.
Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
-T.S. Eliot, "Burnt Norton"

April 18, 2012

The smell is overwhelming,
As last night's carnage hangs on the bedpost-
A testament to his conquest.

It wasn't the bird's fault, of course.
She wasn't aware she couldn't sing at night,
That singing was for mornings only.

The woman touches her soft feathers,
Sees the vacant look in her eyes.
She wonders if it would have been better,
Simply to imprison her-
But he would never allow that.

Suddenly the room is spinning.
The wings disintegrate between her fingers,
as the sun shines through the glass windowpane.
She's trapped again today.
If escape were an option, what would she choose?

Tuesday, January 17, 2012


Katie M. Moss

She said I don’t’ know when I’ll get there, to that place I’ve often seen--
To that place inside my dreams,
A little thread, within the seams.

Every day I hear its call, a little fainter
As I watch the snowy sidewalk,
As I gaze into the street.
To that place inside my dreams.

There it’s bright and never cloudy,
It is silent, warm, serene.
No one tells me anything,
Stitched in that place inside my dreams.

To be sure, you’ll never find it
‘Lest you drink this potion down
Says Irene the white angel,
Who flies without wings.

She flutters around me.
But she cannot wield my dreams.
If she could, I wouldn’t let her,
For they are built especially for me.

Night falls. I crack the shutters.
I ease my way between,
See my harried, troubled eyes
A product of moon beams.

They will never touch me now
With their filthy hands of hate
With their potions, ties, and keys.
I will fly into the night,
I will whisper softly, please.

I will slowly drift away,
Into the clouds of misty dreams.
To the place of in-between.
Say goodbye to everything.