Sunday, July 27, 2008

Someone Else

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derby dawn. and a wrist ahead of orbital elders. sort of squelching every time the chips go down. have you ever put your hands in someone else's shoes? not soothing. sort of spacey. reapply as necessary. the chance keeps chanting.

i have been to no mountain top except to deliver a quaint message to one known as kerby. seems his hip gone missing. and someone's going to pay, allright. 7/8ths of his spirit still consumed by this all encompassing viewpoint, he conceded.

and that is how i became the next vicar of solitude. basking in thin air. breathing shallow comments and arrested ideals. who's next in line? i ask into vastness. well, for one, this rock is too comfortable. needs more electricity. competition at the basket case. shopping for a future. with white suits and wingtipped waitresses, lunch was average. i stole a napkinal glimpse of why. it flushed as i passed.

2 for flinching

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Vicugna, my love


Dearest Vicugna,
barking queen of the andes,
tresses flowing upon the high winds,
soft downy soul raised in the shelter of the high mountain cove.
Thine face is of tranquil beauty,
your eyelashes long and silky brush 'gainst the high heavens, and brought swaying gently back down to mortal earth,
In the dewy meadow, chewing on the end of a blade of grass,
you steal me heart, oh Vicugna, Vicugna Pacos,
Proud Alpaca and wily little bastard that stole my mother's ancestral comb from on top of that shelf that I left there and carefully guarded for years only to find your furry little behind escaping around a corner and the ivory comb missing. Frankly my dear, your beauty is overrated.
Don't make me make a scarf out of you!

Tuesday, July 08, 2008

The ground crawls and other stories

I. The ground crawls:
A million precise movements scattered on the dry-grass floor,
only when stationary does the ground seem alive.
When the mind stills, and the breath draws of its own silent accord,
do the pinpricks of grass-blade-dances and sunlight weevils scurry.

II. The ugly crow:
Black, hungry, unceasing, guttural, brazen, impolite,
taken for granted, under our noses, the everyschlub crow grows lives and dies.
Seething, frothing the world alive streams through our daily consciousness unperturbing.

III. Sister Mary Heathen:
If I have no God, I feel alone.
Christopher, Christ-bearer I become?
Child-bearer?
Sitting on a bus alone crying?

IV. Bitterness in Summer/Gothic mud-wrestling:
The hands that hold themselves, dry crumbling,
acidic visions washing into acceptance,
into magnanimity, into circular patterns that ebb and rise,
unknown sought in Personals; person sought in unknown location.
A silent pill of sorrow every now and again.

V. Mountainscope:
flight. hopping on the bus into everywhere.

VI. The end scares me:
little time to breathe let alone run. Huffing and puffing the day through.