Tag Archives: paris

Last night after my show at Dorothy’s Gallery: American Center for the Arts.
I have never felt more appreciated than I seem to in Paris. Every interaction I have is magic with meaning. The amount of love, support, and dedication to the stories I try to share makes my eyes brim with gratitude, true persons in this city I’ve found. True true spirits living and loving. And I’m not even sure it has much to do with the city as the people are who truly compose this city and not the fashion freaks or the superficial media, perpetuating the illusion of romance and artistic freedom, but the people, the people that thrive and struggle and survive and persevere and give this European city every lick of soul it’s got. The city of Isis is deep in roots and history. Home of many homes. Great love to everyone who came out last night. I look forward to seeing you all at Demory Bar on the 25th #Paris

by aja monet

When the earth 
shatters beneath us
and we are broken open, 
picked apart 
by the silence—
Let me tell you:
you are unrehearsed laughter 
between the murmur of my lips,
an unconscious love,
a man dipped
in midnight lightening.
I will fix my body for you
and fold in the bend 
of your arms,
a tortured jewel.
You are a freedom song
humming in the shadow of my soul
a healing heartache that kisses wounds
and sets free tornados
on my spine
such a crippling tongue.
My spirit is dancing 
in the gospel of your chest 
and I have found music
glowing in the whirlwind 
of your eyes,
may we create new skies
to fall apart under,
The sun bent it’s head
on my skin
this morning
and I could hear 
the bones of butterflies 
creaking in the breeze 
the breath of birds 
heaving into the heart
of my ears. 
My eyes whistled open
the air still smelling 
of lavender smoke and wet leaves
i turn to you 
staring the lids of your jarred pupils
your face
your face is a naked desert at dawn
an ancient heaven at horizon
your mouth slightly caved open
like an owling cow
I smile, blooming
because somewhere before
i remember this 
this silence
you sound of a starving angel when you sleep
you snore like a wailing forest, my love.
I think of you 
like a waking dream,
of your spines grip
melted into the sand 
dunes of my palms.
Last night,
last night your hands sprinkled 
across my flesh
like rainstorms.

I can feel the sun this morning,
he is strong and gleaming.
Your eyelashes splinter 
from the blow of my lips—