Sunday, July 18, 2010

A few things:

the wild in this life is colliding,
greasy passions crash into each other
like drunken dancers
who've forgotten their shoulders.
Enticed into fighting,
challenged trust does not wear thin,
the sounds do not back down
pushing points beyond the hands of sarcasm,
Our songs play past the reach of pathos.

Afternoon Maps
Summer is series of maps drawn for walking,
Arrows pointed toward bare feet & herbed lemonade,
the lawn is hungry to dirty your soles
and draw out you callouses.
Sunshine breeze is worth the insects.

(this piece might be continued at a later date)
I pulled and prodded those tawny-auburn ears
Old and Mellow,
his wisdom would take naps by the fireplace.
He could yawn any other dog under the table.

Stranger on the Subway
The tumble of light revealed only what florescence could manage.
Identity quickly losing saturation,
color dissolved,
faces getting blanker & blanker.
As the distance passed around us,
a dying bulb spasmed,
stealing distinction with each weak flicker.

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