LaboresLunaris

Will update soon. I promise.

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Discord by LaboresLunaris, literature

Songbird by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

Songbird

I imagine the splintering of bone and a cacophony of scarlet wings, and this is how my song for you is born. Inside my golden cage I mold your notes with feathertips and string them into tunes on scales of razor wire. From my throat I pull a treble clef, swirl chords and veins around it, and hang my heart in the center, because you love sad minor keys. I want for you to weave yourself inside my measured lines, snagging hairs on eighth-note flags and wrapping fingers around sharps. I listen to your storytelling of crows, your hummingbird heart beneath your ribs: another bird in a cage, like me.

Morning by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

Morning

Last night I dreamt of you climbing the walls of concert halls and stadiums, because you love that ringing in your ears. You hung from rafters and jailhouse tattooed names that weren't mine into your shoulders. You asked me to carve you wings, but we both know I can't make you fly. So we lay on melting skating rinks and photographed children's tombstones because we were young and stupid once, too. You roll away from me to hug the wall and I chalk up the burning in my stomach to double shot espressos and busted thermostats. Is it still a tug of war if we're both pushing? You call it making love but when you collapse sweat

The Lily Gardener by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

The Lily Gardener

If I were a lily gardener I would lie beside you and leave orange pollen fingerprints along your legs. You could not walk through city streets without my saccharine scent around you, still laced in your hair, though you may wade under waterfalls, torrential. I wake to see your moonlit silhouette against the windowsill skyline of picture frames and perfume bottles. You slide the vase of flowers away, push open the window and inhale the night Here on the curve of your spine, the line of your soft throat, this hipbone shadowed in black and white photographs, I find traces of the pollen I kissed you with. Once, we swam naked

Suburban Rose by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

Suburban Rose

I. You never understood why I hated to sleep alone. The bed felt too big and empty. I'd curl up on the edge while you'd sprawl spread-eagled on the floor in your underwear and a T-shirt two sizes too big, your mass of dark curls smelling of magazine paper and paint and falling all around you. II. The day Mother left, you took me to the top of the stairwell in our apartment building and told me to push. And to look up at the sky and out at the city and know that your love was bigger. You knew bigger scared me. III. Later, we stumbled to the corner store, the one that's open late, because you needed cigarettes and peanu

White Knuckled by LaboresLunaris, literature

Long-Distance by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

Long-Distance

I've never been much good at math, never had an eye for distance. I can't measure the trajectory of someone rocket-launched and falling at 9.8 m/s² in love and the way I understand velocity is the rate at which two lives, our lives collide, leaving us brokenbottlescarred. Is there some formula for the strain of my worlds, spiderwebbing between your fingers pulling thin and dull, a splitting headache. And me, feet grounded, head in the clouds, left my heart where the home isn't and calling you can't kill time enough to stop pulling heartstrings that make ribcage hairline

Here Be Monsters by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

Here Be Monsters

The ocean will always call her daughters. "Come," she cries, "my children! My beautiful saline children!" Soaked and dripping, whitewashed with brine, they come. With hair thick as fog, tangled like knots of distracted sailors, Children born of sea and salt, they come And lay themselves on weathered cliffs and send their songs careening without rudders. "Come," they cry, "our lovers! Our beautiful saline lovers! Drown your sorrows, and sink your ships and sleep forever deep beneath the waves. You'll have no need for pirate flags, a Jolie Rouge our hearts can't match. For we are born of sea and salt; our veins run blue and

The Ouija Board Said by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

The Ouija Board Said

Your father's old university blanket, white and green and striped, smells musty and sour, but it hides the stains on the couch. Football trophies – your brother's – now gather rainday memories: lost dice and loose cards, Risk with only red and blue players. The slanting words your mother scrawled across storage boxes are fading, and the cardboard sags on top. The cat curls into their hollows and sleeps. The back door with dirty window panes still bears scars from the night your sister came home late, having forgotten her key, and tried to pick the lock with a bobby pin. And here on the floor, with single socks an

The 7th Day by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

The 7th Day

We rested, Sunday mornings – Mother, Father, and I – I pushing aside elbows and a star- splattered pillowcase, buried myself in blue. And with me nestled, cradled, held in the warm sacred space between them, they wove the day around us. Father reached for the curtains to let in the light, soft gold light of morning, and Mother hummed bird songs and ocean waves into my hair. I lay my head in the curve beneath her collarbone, and placed a hand on her belly to feel the baby alive inside her.

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Discord by LaboresLunaris, literature

Songbird by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

Songbird

Morning by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

Morning

The Lily Gardener by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

The Lily Gardener

Suburban Rose by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

Suburban Rose

White Knuckled by LaboresLunaris, literature

Long-Distance by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

Long-Distance

Here Be Monsters by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

Here Be Monsters

The Ouija Board Said by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

The Ouija Board Said

The 7th Day by LaboresLunaris, literature

Literature

The 7th Day

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Bikes by LaboresLunaris, visual art

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LaboresLunaris

About LaboresLunaris

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Mar 5
United States
Deviant for 17 years
www.myspace.com/reginanocis
She / Her

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My Bio

Current Residence: Massachusetts, USA
Favourite genre of music: Everything
MP3 player of choice: My iPod. Her name is Polly.

Favourite Movies

Lots. Eternal Sunshine, Garden State, Amelie, Everything Is Illuminated, to name a few

Favourite Bands / Musical Artists

I can\'t choose.

Favourite Writers

Shakespeare, Chuck Palahniuk, Augusten Burroughs, Tamora Pierce, ee cummings, Edgar Allen Poe...

Tools of the Trade

Pen and paper. A camera. Photoshop. Graphite.

Other Interests

Art of all kinds

Posts

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LaboresLunaris

May 17, 2008

Summer, TeenInk, my love of lit and alcohol

0 min read

My god, they really do not leave you room for a mildly creative subject line, do they. Anyway... Hello all! It's been a while. So...updates!: I finished my freshman year of college without dying, failing, or contracting ebola (woot!) and successfully moved back home to California for the summer (another woot!). I probably could crank out some quasi-insightful bit of prose about the "Life's Lessons" I've learned in the past year, you know, one of those things that they turn into posters and notepads and refrigerator magnets. But I don't really feel like it so I'm not going to. Also, I'm writing regularly! Yay! I'm writing weekly blogs for

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LaboresLunaris

Feb 14, 2008

St. Valentine was beheaded, you know

0 min read

Happy Valentine's Day all! So I killed my laptop last week. It was an accident involving a rushed morning, my complete lack of grace, and hot chocolate. Anyhoo, long story short, now, a week later, my compy has be fixed! YAY!!! (All my 6700+ music files are there, which means I can now crank out all the V-Day mixes i typically make for my friends instead of Valentines.) It was really kind of shocking to realize how much I depend on my laptop on a daily basis. I've realized how much I take it for granted. I also realized how much time I spend with my little god of 1's and 0's without actually interacting with the real people around me. More o

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LaboresLunaris

Sep 5, 2007

Augustana stole my life

0 min read

Ok, so not really. I only say that because I just moved from my wonderful hometown in California to Boston, Massachusetts. (For those of you who know the Augustana song "Boston" that should make sense.) I figured that my journal needed an update as my gallery probably won't get one anytime soon. I'm swamped with orientation stuff and any free time I have is spent keeping in touch with friends from home so they don't forget about me and trying to keep my head from exploding. That being the case, poetry is not exactly flowing through my brain. As soon as I can, though, I'll write more. I promise. Once I adjust and classes get rolling, I think m