the physical
tunnels deep
holes burrowing
bandits
cutting backwards
cutting
cutting doberman ears
to hear the Sun.
stunning liberty
standing sane
with room to breath
bares little subsidies
for the damages filled
filling soundless
filling subways temperature
filling ungraceful substitute
before the body can feel.
your colors steel my sound
untouched
highway nails painted bite marks
track forward
trapping lungs in astroids
leaving
osiris to kill the moon for silver
and thursday mornings spent with ills.
and the mind can betray
the mind will always betray
the savior that hides
a sutures tangle
like blueberries picked in secret
or the light at the end of alabaster.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Friday, December 16, 2011
the flavor of celerity at dawn
the fear of luxury is mutual.
I can see it in their mouths, between
breathes of cold. it leaves with the last
bit of fog breath attachment-
but it does not last the wind. i bought in
once. the winter grey could not be seen then,
tasted then
painted on lines of sight then.
and the air was so clean
on december streets, blushing bootleg blues
emotion, but it could not last the wind.
the weight of debt is mutual.
I can see it hidden
in pea coat pockets
carrying elephants eating eggplants,
and paintings of still life-without eggplants-
bought with credit
extentions; so we all could have long hair.
its december again
and assembly is lost in the winter grey
like the taste of lemon seeds
in tonic,
or the flavor of celerity at dawn.
I can see it in their mouths, between
breathes of cold. it leaves with the last
bit of fog breath attachment-
but it does not last the wind. i bought in
once. the winter grey could not be seen then,
tasted then
painted on lines of sight then.
and the air was so clean
on december streets, blushing bootleg blues
emotion, but it could not last the wind.
the weight of debt is mutual.
I can see it hidden
in pea coat pockets
carrying elephants eating eggplants,
and paintings of still life-without eggplants-
bought with credit
extentions; so we all could have long hair.
its december again
and assembly is lost in the winter grey
like the taste of lemon seeds
in tonic,
or the flavor of celerity at dawn.
Friday, December 2, 2011
unknotted
im good at knots.
the problem, it seems,
is the twin-
with fibers impartial to
juncture,
impartial to circumstance,
and the curtains you will hang
when you get your shit together.
i eat simple,
sipping life through
slotted spoons dripping,
and the good
drops
beneath the lips
and onto the floor,
so the cat can know brevity-
her nose smells the breach
of decent.
losing interest,
she attends the
fake mouse
sitting still.
they are...
the both of them...bored.
and here i am-alone,
sitting with the mouth
itching,
hands, incased in air imprisonment,
and can
not touche you-
a plastic pillow case of sinless saunter;
coating confidence,
and i am found
wanting you-
unknotted.
the problem, it seems,
is the twin-
with fibers impartial to
juncture,
impartial to circumstance,
and the curtains you will hang
when you get your shit together.
i eat simple,
sipping life through
slotted spoons dripping,
and the good
drops
beneath the lips
and onto the floor,
so the cat can know brevity-
her nose smells the breach
of decent.
losing interest,
she attends the
fake mouse
sitting still.
they are...
the both of them...bored.
and here i am-alone,
sitting with the mouth
itching,
hands, incased in air imprisonment,
and can
not touche you-
a plastic pillow case of sinless saunter;
coating confidence,
and i am found
wanting you-
unknotted.
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