how to (un)cage a girl

longer hair bigger breasts smoother skin
flatter stomach whiter teeth smaller nose
if you worry enough you won't have time
or energy to see
what really is

what could i have learned
if i didn't live here in this cell?
where could i have flown?
how would i have grown?
if i forgave this shell?

oh, my body
let me cradle you like my girl's
her long limbs spilling over
or folding up like silk
her gold-tinged curls
ringleting my fingers
her eyes the blue of sorrow
and hyacinth

oh, my body
when you are at peace
rocked here to sleep
as if by a mother
as if by a lover
who sees your flushed skin
the grace that you're in
the gleam of your hair
the green of your stare
then this soul can fly off
to understand pyramids and time
history
electricity
technology
symbology
that all of us are one
that all of us are love

Francesca Lia Block

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When I went back to look for it again I could never find it. It was as if someone had put some kind of glamour, some kind of spell, on that ground, and I felt as if I was walking in circles around it again and again, never able to see what was in front of my eyes.
That was how I felt about what happened to me when I turned thirteen. I felt as if I was always circling around my own brain trying to understand.

Francesca Lia Block

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And then--with the curse, or, in this case, blessing, of the unpopular, the unathletic, the overweight, the strange--they vanished like shadows into the spring night.

Francesca Lia Block

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My reading and studying and retellings of old stories didn't do anything except help me think better. I was at least thoughtful. Too thoughtful, my friends said. And all I thought about was myths and old paintings that made me feel drunk on wine or struck my lightning but didn't matter to most people.

Francesca Lia Block

Mots clés art mythology retellings

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What are you going to do if you find art, Pen? You going to steal some and put it in the van?"
"I'm going to remember. When there was art.

Francesca Lia Block

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Baby, I love you. Pen... More then I love the color black. More than I love cigarettes, more than I love books. Even music."

"More than food. More than art or stories. More than words...

Francesca Lia Block

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Non sum qualis eram. I am not what I once was.

Francesca Lia Block

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This was not a fearie tale. This was not the movies. This was life. It hurt more. It was excruciating. It was excruciatingly beautiful.

Francesca Lia Block

Mots clés inspirational

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