February 2012
7 posts
2 tags
pray for the night, dream of the day
sunlight travels in waves and particles at the same time i can’t not that i would would i PROBLY
even when gravity acts a fool’s part as the smoke rises lifts and repeats in the smiles of eyes and the silence of sounds the darkness fills everything with light
quiet for the morning is early and lasts forever yet still the night is longer
1 tag
i didn't see god's face, after all
please, fog, surround me, enter my body through my nose, my skin, my mouth, and let me rise and pass like you, let me rub up against window-panes breathe in cotton thrust my hand down & grab your BVDs
blood sings, nerves hum to the pulsating heat radiating off the cold wood floor (i can only offer myself wholly and let you take what you please.) - now alone, thru an open window ...
1 tag
peter (the cactus)
the water simmered in tight, pearl curls. it smoked well into dusk-soaked memories, sand particles on face, lacking time.
i found patience in the thousands of dragonflies which skated on the surface of decayed river tension. teal clouds drifted like wild nebulas, like minute masses of energy in manic membranes, gliding across a light brush-stroked wet-dream.
i spoke eons with my mind while polos...
1 tag
Midday Bourbon with Ralph Steadman
(on burnt carpet lit like butts he whispered death wishes into a fisher price telephone with a glowing nose)
last night once more posted prickly and pissed in dark harbors and welfare lines disguised as drink specials cut cold cocktail orders with my eyes yellow diamond green speckled search lights cutting cold for you parting cackling and bonded groups of open-necked swillers with cigarette...
2 tags
every february a warm stupor
lovers like us cough on our knees we mumble because we are tired because Sabines is right because we do not save love there are caves in our love: we commute from them alone we dwell within its pauses and those we gargle in our mouths because this is granted and we take it because we do not...
1 tag
Shootout At Hotel Tampico
(my neck knows knuckles- do your fingers remember the grip like a wedding wring imprint and later with soaked regret coughed you a reprint of a sulking pulse? i’m sure you put me to paper.) i told you once that valentine’s day should take place in july (the melody that months sing, julius comes ruby, february in a sling) how midsummer’s nights mean salted map making in linen...
3 tags
recidivism at the asylum
the bespoke white jacket and shoes sans laces were the same only these “prison” walls are colder than last time i booked a room
especially tonight as the rain comes and the grouted grooves direct precipitation to act the part of tears in the production of my self-imposed sentence for an audience of ONE
someday soon i’ll be on fire and they’ll let me walk...