Leigh

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Eavesdropping on the Whore of Babylon
She pressed her phone against her ear,
veiled in frizzy red hair.
I don’t remember his name.                     The lover with the moustache.
She breathed cigarette smoke,
wriggling
gray and wisps of ash.
Blinked her tired eyes.
He said he missed me…
Read the rest of this poem, featured in Fuck Art, Let’s Dance, published by Nostrovia! Poetry

Poetry: ‘It Was Always You’ | Leigh Cuen

thatlitsite:

image

For years before you
I read about love and watched love on TV
I sang along to the radio
about this stranger
voice wavering at the high notes
and I fiddled with passion like a child with matches-
careful not to burn my fingers.

Since I met you,
I sing about you in the shower,
dress for you in the morning
I stand tall and smile wide
because you exist.
I use your name interchangeably
with Heart and other deities.
For you are the answer
to every question
I never knew was inside me.

Chris Cobb, an artist based in San Francisco, has created an amazing installation in bookshop called Adobe Books- he catalogued every single one of the 20,000 books by color. The project is titled There is Nothing Wrong in This Whole Wide World. They were arranged by hand over a 10 hour period, and he enlisted the help of 16 volunteers. Such beautiful results, they transformed the bookshop overnight.

(source) via showslow

(via writetothestars)

thepostpoetry:

By Leigh Cuen 

The Place of Secret Thunder:

They say one in every three girls has
the same nightmare, sometime, somewhere. Black. White.
Red. Yellow. Far Away. Here. In between.
Who counts those fresh, broken hearts?
We don’t know. Their names are blotted out, smeared
in blood red ink. Ask around. Your questions
will probably hang in the air like apples
from a branch. Ripe, crimson, silent
Untouched.