Dean/Castiel ( Read more... )

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.

untitled | margaret atwood

I look up, you are standing
on the other side of the window

now       your body
glimmers in the dark

room / you rise above me
smooth, chill, stone-

white / you smell of tunnels
you smell of too much time

I should have used leaves
and silver to prevent you

instead I summoned

you are not a bird you do not fly
you are not an animal you ( Read more... )

ummm things that seem to be about war on earth but are actually in truth about heaven's civil war:

1

I pray 
for the failure
of this

stinking war

spread your wings,
and come, merciful failure,
come

2

Planes
rattle
toward Lebanon

driving
toward Ba’albek

to destroy 
a bottle factory

3

I pray
that the plane

with a bomb in its belly

will be beaten by 
the building’s ( Read more... )

Brutal to give
the prisoner a window-
a blue sky glimpse-

as if an afterlife
existed. Brutal
for you to parade

in a body
in the same
room where I dream you.

Dinner with RilkeStay stock still if suddenly the angel ( Read more... )

Season 4 - Dean/Cas, Jimmy/Cas, you know.

from Masters of the Cante Jondo5 ( Read more... )

(This is a poem about Dean and his feelings, but it's also about Cas, so I think it counts.)

It’s one a.m in a unkept motel room
On a dirty bedspread. 
Is there ever a clean one?

There are things I wish were mine to tell you, things you already know
The way a mechanic knows his engine
The way I know salt-a thing I have tasted, ingested, swum in,
( Read more... )

I went to the bookstore last summer and found a book of poetry called Looking for the Faces of God. I'm finally reading it. daaaaaaang.

I can't tell if this is Cas, or Death, or some crazy plan the Winchesters come up with in S7, but it's about souls.

WALLS

All day long I create a bulwark. I gather the living along with the dead and ( Read more... )

 Cas/Dean, "The Man Who Would Be King"

I take off my hands and I give them to you but you don't
want them, so I take them back
and put them on the wrong way, the wrong wrists. The yard is dark,
the tomatoes are next to the whitewashed wall,
the book on the table is about Spain,
the windows are painted shut.

Tonight you're thinking of cities under crowns
( Read more... )