| sang-froid |
[14 Feb 2006|11:53am] |
again not any kind or type of
otherness may afford me the space i need
to reconcile the misdeed done.
yet, though, except i find the
break quite open and willing to be
delineated, dissected, plied with focal
strategy...so,
then, at that - going to get gone and stay
no matter the number of
paces taken in the leaving. my
heart has no shape, has no corners,
and sewing wrong things into it
the day chuckles with heavy breath over
my wince.
and then what may i be able or
willing to see through the cloud of pricks
coming at me, the pangs mold into fog that
one could cut with a spoon, but begs for knives.
as am i.
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| special |
[14 Feb 2006|04:58pm] |
on today
How, the question,
hangs the gag, swingingly, toward half the requisite
effort. greetings fake execution while
saying mocks human endeavors toward
rhyme and rhythm.
halves and green flags break the sky's
image throwing wings at the wind
just to see them fall away.
though having is not had and
present tenses always find their
due in effectiveness. this does
not mean a thing, it
does not mean to war or to be
persuasive. breaking to broken pieces,
ranging, loft today; having need
without desire attached to it.
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