send me dizzy up the stairs,
but i fall down. all
around me, they're tracing white
lines on table tops.
asking me, but i always,
almost always, say no.
and here i am laughing,
telling myself lies.
a little further away from
everyday, every day i live.
-
scrape bottom down
this rutted road
made old by winter
and the big trucks
that just can't sit still.
two trains coming,
running down river
tracks ripe with coal
folding like bricks
around the bent hills.
pass the pipe and know
we will never know
what it was we felt before
our old souls knew
new shoes loose in the gravel.
-
Thursday, February 17, 2011
wind and words
the wind is a sucker; chasing it's tail
indefinitely, finding cracks and alleys to run
through, corners to howl around, always
running after itself.
if you had a tail you would be
like the wind; always ahead of and behind
yourself, essence
of an incapturable moment, like sunlight.
if you were like sunlight, what would that mean?
would you glow with truth? hide behind clouds?
interfere at your feistiest times with electrical signals?
if you, words, were like sunlight, would you provide good
clean energy, or would you simply burn?
no, you are more like the wind
perpetually unaware of your beginning middle and end.
unaware of your own existence, unaware of the wars
fought, lives lost, treasures gained, thoughts shared.
you propagate yourself in a thousand dialects,
a thousand ways to say the same thing.
nothing, has ever, or will ever, change.
the wind will chase itself, words will pile up and mean nothing.
the sun will glow red and disappear, swallowing cultures, and people,
and planets.
the wind will still chases itself, and words will still pile up and mean
nothing.
nothing at the end of the world, will not know,
will ever know, and has ever known...
-
crockpot piss on a blackspot
your thought is nonstop
so cop-out and block
the nonsense you incensed fool.
-
if i were hamfisted
i'd buy a bag of peanuts
and see what that was like.
-
your lasso is a truth lasso
wonder woman
your lasso is a truth lasso
asshole.
indefinitely, finding cracks and alleys to run
through, corners to howl around, always
running after itself.
if you had a tail you would be
like the wind; always ahead of and behind
yourself, essence
of an incapturable moment, like sunlight.
if you were like sunlight, what would that mean?
would you glow with truth? hide behind clouds?
interfere at your feistiest times with electrical signals?
if you, words, were like sunlight, would you provide good
clean energy, or would you simply burn?
no, you are more like the wind
perpetually unaware of your beginning middle and end.
unaware of your own existence, unaware of the wars
fought, lives lost, treasures gained, thoughts shared.
you propagate yourself in a thousand dialects,
a thousand ways to say the same thing.
nothing, has ever, or will ever, change.
the wind will chase itself, words will pile up and mean nothing.
the sun will glow red and disappear, swallowing cultures, and people,
and planets.
the wind will still chases itself, and words will still pile up and mean
nothing.
nothing at the end of the world, will not know,
will ever know, and has ever known...
-
crockpot piss on a blackspot
your thought is nonstop
so cop-out and block
the nonsense you incensed fool.
-
if i were hamfisted
i'd buy a bag of peanuts
and see what that was like.
-
your lasso is a truth lasso
wonder woman
your lasso is a truth lasso
asshole.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
keep it upstairs
spend your time passing by strangers and forgetting
them. wired resistant, but out of flux, and too much
reality weeping through the glass.
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