a know-nothing non-something,
a song, a back-slap,
a tree without sap.
crowned with ceremony
and melancholia-
a whistle, a snap.
a marriage of two curtains,
initials-a distance-an election
a combination of letters,
matches faceless reflection
that becoming broken glass performs
a mother-father-less C-section.
a little girl.
a broken spine.
I don't give you yours
but you gave me mine.
this inner debate
will it ever diminish?
an ubiquitous start,
an infamous finish.
Saturday, March 19, 2011
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
-
In my dreams I am the fictional version of myself. The one I seek to be in my short-stories and prose. The one who gets her point across but...
-
nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
-
and now that the anger is gone there may be a few more glimpses like looking out of the window through a thin veil of silk. a look in...
-
motionless sap. ogling your shadow, you have much thinking to do. has the potassium kicked you in the arse yet-and got you going? you a...
-
A woman's stance feet parted so that like a breezy window the mantle opened slightly lets in curves of salty air- but here there is no, ...
-
RICK: Hey Rick? DICK: Yea, Dick? RICK: See that sky roll on by? (points) DICK: ...Oh, my... RICK: Don't i-t'almost makes yer wanner....
-
two squinting painted eyes looking solemn on a leathery face. this knight of the golden age has a 20 gallon bucket of a hat atop his slicked...
-
secret fancies don't really bother me, alright? but know that once you tell me I become either like a turtle and snap my smile...
-
The Opera The eyes of the firing-squad are aimed with lashed cross-hairs for now we, the chorus, all look like oiled up black ducks in a ro...
Like a beautiful little waltz!
ReplyDeletedigging the rhythm
ReplyDelete