The Colour RedThe road sign ahead says we're 50 kilometers from everything, and the odometer says we've driven 20 miles away from nowhere. All the road maps say criss cross to the left, and operate on a scale of here to somewhere. And all the green triangles on the mapThe Colour Red
are replicas of trees. On and on, we drive with the windows and our pants down, farther into and simultaneously out of, civilization. We drive so fast the colours slow down, and all I see is red,
I mean road, red, red, concrete, and brick and mortar mansions our motor tears down. Here, says the
Dog BiteWhere is passion found, When not in the beat of a drum Or the tambourine medley of hand symbols? Where does the well of confirmative action, against indecision, spring? Where is the music written from?Dog Bite
The heart and the ears are not a singular entity, and are not two to engage in the delicate act
of Synasthesia, When black comes home and smells like love, and feels like engagement. How often are head and heart united? Certainly not in the creation of love, a manifestation of passion. Yet certainly so, in the creation of music. Which seems t
Alone in AutumnAlone, in the sunshine and the weather. With time, to contemplate, and compliment, the golden loveliness of angel hair, and muddy river banks. As well, as the bright green hue, of countless vines, and the reserved darkness, of several scattered conifers.Alone in Autumn
Alone, in the wind, and all its gentle glory. Listening, to the rustle,
of leaves, that sound brown. And to grass, that feels dry, although, it is too far away, to touch.
Somewhere I can't see, there are tall cat tails
MobileI could have watched him slide away forever from my fingers he kept a tight leash on my sternum letting embraces fall off my hips, keeping them dangling from the cords of my telephone he says he does it out of loveMobile
scars are laced across my spine
making a mobile from my bones .
Of Birds, Horses and MenI want to nest I want to fill your eggs I want to fly into the north when its cold I want to hunt I want to be hunted I want to be part of that triangle in the skyOf Birds, Horses and Men
I am not a bird But at least Im not a man
I want to dig into the mother earth I want to wrap myself in rotten leaves I want see the mud fight itself under my fingernails I want run under falling autumn leaves I want to dig I want to bury I want to live I want to marry
Even though I am an animal At least Im not a man Even though you can fly You are not the birds At le
I like to make myself feel important.
Excited
check out the finished piece as well!
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MY MIND SPRAYS LIKE A.K'S IN LEBANON
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Nie każdy wierzy w Boga, ale każdy chce schudnąć.
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Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away
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"Oh, Jake," Brett said, "we could have had such a damned good time together"
Ahead was a mounted policeman in khaki directing traffic. He raised his baton. The car slowed suddenly pressing Brett against me.
"Yes." I said. "Isn't it pretty to think so?"
--
"the end of the world will happen in iambic pentametre"
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