And every stair's a spiral
chance, a simple
trip from there to
there
And the games are
dry and choking
and the moon is almost
here
And the take lacks
chance and chaos
and is never, always
empty
And it's nothing more
than and and or
and or is only this
time
And the more is
never nothing more
than what there is to
gain
And the end is
moderation, or something
smelling just as
rank
And in the gaps
of awkward travels
and their narcissistic
reign
Lie the echoes of
exaggeration, our
sirens of the
game.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Loose Secure
Creaking curly bones
swaying against time
nearly night already
Soft sole hums
for only two
the rest for laughter
Salt cream carousel
makes loose secure
so much so it’s so
Loaded terms only
the motto reads
we all crack at different teeth
Three hats next
by olive beat
leave your wine in the hall way
Held with feet
sweet blinking breath
stumbling in time and line for written soul.
swaying against time
nearly night already
Soft sole hums
for only two
the rest for laughter
Salt cream carousel
makes loose secure
so much so it’s so
Loaded terms only
the motto reads
we all crack at different teeth
Three hats next
by olive beat
leave your wine in the hall way
Held with feet
sweet blinking breath
stumbling in time and line for written soul.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Fine
Stumbling, bumbling bag of contra
diction's the key and
is all there is any way
Blink through it and
remember sundress brown
swaying with creation
Hit and beat and exhale
white clouds look prettiest
in turquoise rings
Sometimes knowing and always
never knowing
that's the point.
diction's the key and
is all there is any way
Blink through it and
remember sundress brown
swaying with creation
Hit and beat and exhale
white clouds look prettiest
in turquoise rings
Sometimes knowing and always
never knowing
that's the point.
Of Course
Get me over the hill, through the spill.
Into the pumpkin fog of early morning.
Bay at bay and bring it closer.
Take my eyes and feet -
I want my hands for all its winking flaws.
Spill another glass.
Burp a haiku -
art.
Empty, baby.
Rings.
Turquoise.
Continuous present.
Into the pumpkin fog of early morning.
Bay at bay and bring it closer.
Take my eyes and feet -
I want my hands for all its winking flaws.
Spill another glass.
Burp a haiku -
art.
Empty, baby.
Rings.
Turquoise.
Continuous present.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Study Break
Chime. Chime. Chime. Chime. Chime. Chime. Chime. Chime. Chime. Chime. Chime. Chime.
Right on time.
Leaves and cracks. Rolling cries and hurried feet.
Shorts and bags and long hair vines.
Water on the roof and no concentration -
your best attempt.
Butterfly lashes and barroom kisses and what else is there but more of the same?
Some are yellow and some are green. Most are orange.
Study inside if you have to, but you don't have to.
Soon there'll be fresh leaves in the same dress, new bags with turning feet and twirling eyes.
And your eyes gave it away...something about your calm demeanor.
Right on time.
Leaves and cracks. Rolling cries and hurried feet.
Shorts and bags and long hair vines.
Water on the roof and no concentration -
your best attempt.
Butterfly lashes and barroom kisses and what else is there but more of the same?
Some are yellow and some are green. Most are orange.
Study inside if you have to, but you don't have to.
Soon there'll be fresh leaves in the same dress, new bags with turning feet and twirling eyes.
And your eyes gave it away...something about your calm demeanor.
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