The ache in my jaw reminds me
of my age, that I'm
still cutting teeth on
broken sage and giving up
meat is my best bet,
because I'm not a dark
horse in the running yet.
Comedies, Histories, Tragedies
it's all the same-
since the invention of the game
-since the pretenton of the working day.
Since the invention of play.
Bright lights flash, and another cliche
and then another, let's call it a day.
Whatever did people do without paved walk
Whatever did they do without small talk
Whatever did they do without broken chalk
I'd say their day was still pretty full
Without all the stupid push and pull
Without all that pointless bull.
Children ran through the fields, wild and free,
that's what they told me, that's how it used to be
I wasn't sure, but I trusted it--
but they are all gone now, no one left to aquit.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
-
in August for John Keats I didn't die unrequited. I took a wife in August. My wife was wearing silky white shoulders holding out her bon...
-
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 ...
-
Ah, 7. The number in question. During this process of developing my first full-length work of prose, and a memoir to boot, I have considered...
-
There is a hidden warmth in you you do not show to others and it pulls me under like quick sand. Or maybe it is the movement of the sands th...
-
like me- it serves as a question as well as an appropriately foolish letter in bad company it only teams up with words like yodel, ...
-
That previous December, a little voice was coyly in-treat-ing: "Take an angry butcher knife to your hair, and paint it the color of a s...
-
Rain, dearest friend. You know just when to pound on my head. I know there is more to this world, than what I have given from inside myself....
-
driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu...
-
There is something spooky about me. I am certain of it. Or else why does the thought of you dying for me, somehow slightly perk me up. Bette...
-
August 2003! A spree, and the W.A.P another month of you and possibly me W.A.P stands for wild animal park, if you don't remember- the ...
No comments:
Post a Comment