Why Windows

Written February, 2009
Author: Parrish Ravelli
----------------------------

Sometimes because it's nice
to know the weather

before having to go
outside.

Sometimes to watch the way
the seasons decide to change.

Sometimes simply
to inspire.

But sometimes because, when,
within my view of the window frame

a strong enough gust of wind
blows hard enough

seeming to make everything
in my immediate world move

I cannot help but to feel
that we are all connected.

When I Hear Silence

for Cameron Isabella Collini
Written December, 2007
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-------------------------------------

When I hear silence
I think of what it might sound like
When constellations form

Or how it sounds to wake up
As the world is born.

At night
I hear silence
Between your every heart beat

That radiates love,
That radiates heat.

Your eyes in Winter
Have the heroism of Spring
Rebirth of the Family
With the birth of a baby girl.

When I hear silence
I hear what it means
to have the world created, and all at once
To create the world.

Summertime

Written 2005
Author: Parrish Ravelli
--------------------------

there are books on shelves
with miles between them

with space for my ego to construct itself
just shy of a romantic

there are lines that divide
and run into one another

train tracks, or headlights
just missing each other

to what name do I give a rose
none but that which is its' own

romance

and myself just a spectator
between lines and chapters

sitting on shelves overlooking trains
just missing eachother

These Streets

Written July, 2006
Author: Parrish Ravelli
-----------------------------

the moonlight on 5th street
is blushing

because we just figured out
what it was trying to say

strung out from all those
tearful nights...

there are revolutions
in your eyes

with trails of light
that reach across your face

come le stelle charismatic.

the moonlight on 6th street
is drunk on the concrete

and cannot hide anything.
it snuck into the church on the corner,

through the stained glass,
and spilled out at our feet.

just above we were dancing
with the sense of touch

letting the politicians
talk about tomorrow.

whether or not
these moonlit streets come alive

we will move
with grace rather than sorrow.