Sunday, November 11, 2012
Monday, September 24, 2012
People Are Dividing
People are dividing
what they know and they don't know
into parts
Traffic jams and telephone scams
come to know us better than we know
our selves
It must be time to redress
the old, the new , the now we hide from
within
Slowly entering the news
from an unknown perspective to rattle
from underneath
Death's blanket folds
over decay like undone garbage heaps
reveals stench
This is the new nature
made perfectly old by its semblances
to dance
The light eternal is made
of junk the imagination clouds beyond stars
its food
I blow past you
and you past me as we enter another moment
oh blankness
It is carved carbon
dating us back to the earth space
we live upon
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Blind Dirt
The Blues man sits poised.
No, that's not true.
A woman wakes in the night and carves a pumpkin.
It is Spring and the pumpkin is frozen
like so many tears on a ghost's face.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Sunday, December 4, 2011
It is true that living water brings eternal life to those who drink it. I imbibe the present moment, some buzz I hear, sharp pain I have
thickness of mind
ambition to be pure in the collective mind of posterity. That's what I scanned in. I like how I type, this need be no better for you than for me. If I had a little violence, I have seized so much,I'd seize it all again.
thickness of mind
ambition to be pure in the collective mind of posterity. That's what I scanned in. I like how I type, this need be no better for you than for me. If I had a little violence, I have seized so much,I'd seize it all again.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Influence
A goat bleats
and a man says you can only make art
when you suffer
But we know this
is not at all true
painting our fences
into the ground
Then looking up
at the sky
I see a falling child
My pants are torn
like a cloud
in the winter sky
that is forever continuous
We go home and cry
and itch a little too
to get out
But light creeps in
the corners are filled
with it. Up 'til now
when we both leave
This is the mirror
and both of us
are in it
Looking up for the falling
who fall to us
from above
like those children
They pull the cord
on the last light bulb
in the sky
and a man says you can only make art
when you suffer
But we know this
is not at all true
painting our fences
into the ground
Then looking up
at the sky
I see a falling child
My pants are torn
like a cloud
in the winter sky
that is forever continuous
We go home and cry
and itch a little too
to get out
But light creeps in
the corners are filled
with it. Up 'til now
when we both leave
This is the mirror
and both of us
are in it
Looking up for the falling
who fall to us
from above
like those children
They pull the cord
on the last light bulb
in the sky
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