swimming in a very small bowl...
do you know this to be true?
i used the knife you planted
to cut a chunk out of the deep spring sky
that covered your tiny little town.
the last words you said made no sense.
the bridge you were standing on
became engulfed
in an ocean of fire.
it was summer, and you
quit
fighting
it.
self-righteous receptacle
disemboweled by a fall wind.
we all see how you were no more than litter--
useless,
discarded,
parts.
memory eater,
cold and grey
photographic fuel.
salivating over synapses,
placed on a shelf,
to distill, ferment...
waiting for the passing,
for the jackboot of winter
was oppressing the seasons once more.
NB @ 10:39 AM
3 Comments:
I like this one, cn. it's a new style. more earthy, more meat and potatoes, rather than gourmet. we need a little down home cookin once in a while. keep it up. :)
very smart, my dear.
i agree with meraz. you can definitely take a bite out of this one. props.
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