Cherry Pie Daydreams

January 15, 2019

In this dream, we are baking cherry pies.
We are baking cherry pies in the middle of a sunlit kitchen and leaving them to cool on the windowsill.
I want to say that there is sunshine spilling everywhere.
I want to say that it’s falling out of the gaps between your teeth because it probably is.
How could it not be?
In this dream I put my mouth on your mouth and try to catch all of that happiness with my tongue,
we play soft music that sounds like sighing
and I breathe like a paper bird rustling
against your tongue.
Did I say that there is a meadow in my stomach?
Did I tell you that you were every flower inside of it?
I don’t know, it doesn’t matter. You knew,
how could you not?
In this dream, you are probably licking my fingertips clean,
and we are dripping cherry jam on the counters.
In this dream we are dancing barefoot on a wooden floor,
tangled so far inside of each other like knitting string.
I am kissing your shoulders
and paying special attention to the dusk setting in your hollows.
I am sticking my fingers in your belly button,
and your ears and right there, where you’re all ribs.
In this dream, we are belly full,
I’ll kiss your knees and I’ll stroke your hips,
I’ll comb your hair.
In this dream, we sit side by side and hold hands
and knock our bodies like bowling pins.
In this dream I’ll feed you cherry pie with my fingers,
you’ll kiss me with your mouth wide open,
we’ll taste that sweetness everywhere,
how could we not?

Azra Tabassum

It is my life

January 15, 2019

Painting, art in general, enchants me. It is my life. What else matters? When you put all your soul into a work, all that is noble in you, you cannot fail to find a kindred soul who understands you, and you do not need a host of such spirits. Is not that all an artist should wish for?

Camille Pissarro
Letter to his son Lucien

Carry her poems away

January 15, 2019

the unspeakable

January 15, 2019

…every poem holds the unspeakable inside it, the unsayable, you know, not unspeakable as in taboo but the unsayable, the thing that you can’t really say because it’s too complicated, it’s too complex for us.

Marie Howe
Interview with Shivani Singh
The Daily Free Press March 16th 2016