So I'm back, and wondering.
Is prose...? A lack of penmanship marks me,
or rather, fails to. Something about a cold
night,
lightness of stars suspended below the expanse that is space.
Maybe it's some kind of fragile
moment, this journey that we so preciously value as
self-discovery.
Am I
learning? She stool precariously on the ledge.
Am I becoming? And in a moment, catching the
wind.
Something about tire treads, muddy ground.
Earth, space, smoke dancing between
calloused fingertips. Wait for me, She asks. Or let me wait for you. Silence.
There are thoughts that may form, others that may evaporate
into the consciousness of oxygen and carbon.
Oh, you. Silly thoughts, empty
shells, fucking filterless
cigarettes. So, here we
are. And she sways to and fro, music
irrelevant.
9.2.10
7.2.10
Spoken Word (2)
drank too much sugar-infused sweetness
and laid upon my stained (various bodily fluids) bed
a little intro-contemplation and the cigarette
I half smoked yesterday afternoon
I saved it
Waste not, want. Or something along the lines of
yearning, yellow coated teeth and red cheap-wine lips.
I sometimes discover places I've already been.
the slap and !
i'm up and off and out and dooooooown
holy mackerel, (is that a bird/word or am I unlucid?)
tender moments filled with the dread
of time elapsing
so prescriptive, and yet the sun still rises
over an ash colored, concrete, gum lined sidewalk.
the absence of cigarette.
and laid upon my stained (various bodily fluids) bed
a little intro-contemplation and the cigarette
I half smoked yesterday afternoon
I saved it
Waste not, want. Or something along the lines of
yearning, yellow coated teeth and red cheap-wine lips.
I sometimes discover places I've already been.
the slap and !
i'm up and off and out and dooooooown
holy mackerel, (is that a bird/word or am I unlucid?)
tender moments filled with the dread
of time elapsing
so prescriptive, and yet the sun still rises
over an ash colored, concrete, gum lined sidewalk.
the absence of cigarette.
Vancouver Aubade
Some gentle sun
Finds the tops of the trees
And in my bed, I begin
To grow
The auspicious buds of May
Taller and more lustrous and more
blue
Even than the sphere of Earth
Between us and space
Finds the tops of the trees
And in my bed, I begin
To grow
The auspicious buds of May
Taller and more lustrous and more
blue
Even than the sphere of Earth
Between us and space
2 (and/or more)
Only love is all
around and down
Upwards towards, away from
the clumsy introspection
of tender minds
Connections ,telephone wire,
birds and forgotten tied-up laces
belonging to worn down, lived in shoes
Only love is all
Only all is love
Love is only all
Love is all only
A perfect square
of imperfections
around and down
Upwards towards, away from
the clumsy introspection
of tender minds
Connections ,telephone wire,
birds and forgotten tied-up laces
belonging to worn down, lived in shoes
Only love is all
Only all is love
Love is only all
Love is all only
A perfect square
of imperfections
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