| the now hour |
[10 Jan 2006|01:20pm] |
now is of the hour
and words make no room for telling
anything worth
saying
except
we'll all know how
south goes in winter
and how north is outside itself
both are ever-reaching
vanishing points. whether
we like it
or not. brought how to
then and when to yes
the scope is not so translatable,
i guess.
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[10 Jan 2006|01:23pm] |
too, gone to singing
at the walls just for the sound
and ache it brings later when
you're trying
to write things down
or remember what to say
when asked something
about the way time
moves.
except no one asks those
things for the fear that they were
wrong all along. and along
does have its way of
consolation, its way of
assurance. because sure;
on it goes, regardless.
but and also for outside
ourself is something we cannot
really achieve without liberal
lubrication and at least
two mindbending substances.
like...
teflon.
non-stick!
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| stad ium |
[10 Jan 2006|04:47pm] |
arena sized
hunger
and lake sized
thirst
and the whet is
counted as your stars
except, (!) again, the
breadth
of the wind does not offer
not one ounce
of consolation.
at most, it is a tincture full.
like fences and human
thought,
which is influenced,
too much,
by the world's eventual
end;
between it and
everything else
we might find that
ounce we need, yet.
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| oh |
[10 Jan 2006|05:27pm] |
swans have no cause or
call
to remember their
names or
the sounds they make until
being chased by the winter;
up and die,
or up and move.
i suppose
that supposition is not so
hot as it is only warm, not
so soft as it is only pliant.
ho - be wary of the differences.
they bite and have
teeth to
tear you in half.
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