low burning stumble
Thursday, July 28, 2005
black is a metaphor,
and you've been lying again.
the mouth is kind aesthetically,
curves correspond,
firing synapses pleasantly.
allowing forgiveness...
one
more
time
you'll trade it often,
amnesia for beauty...
but i won't--
i know the score.justice depends not on outward theatre,
and it's time to settle the hand of vengeance.
with enough patience, going nowhere brings you somewhere
Sunday, July 24, 2005
poison cliques
asleep at the switch,
and it's left my bed empty once again.
am i stone?the space you take from me leads you not...
no further, no faster to the prize.
one more year of this...(?)
similar medicated complacency.
gnashed teeth,
eyes glued to cracks in concrete.
looking out my window
at a kid with a mowhawk
sitting in the backseat of a cab.
i think i might die today.
the (character) assassination of saint clifford
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
iron kindness
flat headed sensibilities
a hammer for a head,
scissors for hands.
ripping you apart...
cutting you down,
tapping you into a place
just below feeling human.
found on every corner,
in every classroom,
in every job you'll ever have.
automatically swung when starving for plates of attention,
ever wanting to be a nail holding something into place.
disorder in their insecurity,
fed but never full.
translucent oration number seventeen
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
listing along...
in trying to right the ship,
and fix now torn--once proud--
oral accoutrements,
i have lost my bearings.
meaningless longitude,
inconsequential latitude.
the horizon holds a land mass in its wavering clutches.
weary from mending,
a decision rings clear in my ears.
speech and hands that once handled mending wounds
turn to sharp knives,
and sharper axes,
splintering and shredding past
that which gave me safety and even keel.
rather i sink trying to reach even ground
then live mending a destiny doomed for failure.
the widowmaker eulogy
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
i took a chance on unique experience.
i chose a path off the main road,
though i came to find out it was a path quite beaten...
in the clearing i see a structure.
the structure.
no one knows how it came to be and no one asks why.
i suppose i was looking for it,
but i became quite distracted by the twisting and turning of the path...
(merriment for some, toiling for others)
there it sat-- pearl sheen, pinkish in hue.
rounded at the top,
straight and pointed at the base.
pushing thoughts back like vines--
no time to be reminded of the previous attempts.
it looks beautiful from afar.
upon close examination it is a configuration
exuding function over form
jagged, bolted, hasty--
a crude steel object.
the scent of warm metal touched by human skin
it's sides rough to the touch
when stroked opposite to its cadence.
to find an opening...i tried pushing,
i tried pulling.
hands became red and raw,
shavings of crosshatched metal
sink in and itch.
failure through force.
[the only way in is from the invitation inside]
