Oct 13, 2014 / 55 notes


im watching you, darling.
you are sovereign and beautiful.
solemnity peeks from beneath your skin.
you are beautiful

i am a bird
watching from bird’s eye view
i am merely an observer
but your timely decadence
your radiant shadow
you are all i will follow.

brown eyed storm.
rain to my heart beat
touch me with your silver hands
pull me into the midst of your winds

take me away with you… beautiful.

d is for desolate

e for enduring

f - for all the times

a smile swept you under the rug

for this one

you’ll need a heart like a tug boat

it holds like a lighter but

hits like

a bus

alphabet series ii, st. grace poetry
Sep 6, 2014 / 3 notes

a is for artistry

b is for bite marks

c - tell me what

you know about cats.

i see you’re a fan of my work

just me and two feet of hair

face like a barn owl


Sep 6, 2014 / 8 notes
interim - the calm before the reign
she bears a sovereign countenance
solemn enough for a stamp
but lacking in adherents - what use
is face value without backing?
just geometry

- In Need of a Fix

(The St Grace Press)

Stasia Grace

(via thestgracepress)

Sep 5, 2014 / 4 notes
Aug 29, 2014 / 18,677 notes

(via iridessence)

Pumpkin spice bruises that develop like fall leaves or a sunset.
From dusty monochrome to vivid splendor.

Watercolor bruises that develop like overexposed photographs.
Once was darkness, cedes to color, leaves nothing but yellow halos.

Aug 27, 2014 / 20 notes
Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.
Pablo Neruda (via art-and-fury)
Aug 26, 2014 / 97 notes

Split-palmed needle-boned nightmare
child of fever dreams

Short of breath, rich in stars
gaping skyward frantic to swallow
infinite marbles in a fishbowl scape
where the sirens howled lonesome
the world turned heavy as a grindstone
audible against the atmosphere.

the night sky is riddled with
winding sirens rise like prayers
The spinning earth has stopped its coyote growl
it is no longer hungry

No stars to swallow whole with pacific lips -
the frantic fish has lost its gills
replaced with guile and artifice
hi-hat nerves and bass veins.

The fever is gone from her palms
the splinters remain.

Aug 24, 2014 / 9 notes


I won’t defer - I know that
resistance is for
filaments, flags and kites
as they rise

How many parts per million must
my marbled composition be
until I’m stars to sky

In a seascape of half spoken sentences
how much more do i cede
for a title and
how much seed do I sow
to reap uprise

If tomorrow’s sun draws my silhouette
across the canvas of your recall like long lashes
all I ask is
that you witness its trajectory
and match it

Your lids won’t genuflect, won’t descend
below cheekbone horizon

My ascendence is more than
a trick of the light it catches -
it’s prophesied.


(St. Grace Poetry)

Aug 23, 2014 / 4 notes
Aug 19, 2014 / 1,092 notes