I scrambled into wrinkled corners
Flipping pages frantically,
Leading with my one good hand
As if I were demon.
Like tiger I was made a crowd
To pounce as wildfire upon my goal,
Shrieking loudly as I moved
It was my prayer come rounding zen.
Month: September 2014
Unsurfaced (day 1203)
Search for me in unanswered ponies.
Call and listen to wind floating.
For I have never let it out yet,
Unsurfaced.
Wasted highways of uncharted lands
Lasting like lost favors in a long line
Cause I’m a favor;
Restless
It exists to thyself
And the game’s been answered.
A rule you’re a part of.
Tremble on.
South of the river
Highway stoned look
In a sea of open windows
Jubilation.
An Early Autumn Memory (day 1202)
Grow grow you marvelous fruit,
Ahead of this sun and sparkling ray.
Lick the edge of my creased shoulder,
Cavernous lover, naked in Litha.
Unforgiven (day 1201)
I cannot be unforgiven.
I cannot untie the lesions
Fluttering around pickaxes
Tickling my mind.
I am an unborn, mon amis,
A shackling wreck
Anchoring my finer points
To big firs and pines.
I am a fascinated child
Playing footsie with a wench,
Smiling shyly.
I cannot be unforgiven.
I cannot backfire my heart
And pickle rabbits in garlic water.
I know I’m one letter flying,
B and my C tiger,
Loading box spring mattress sets
Into Ford Ranger pickups.
I cannot be unforgiven
Selling chanterelles,
Those spicy succulent fungi,
To slightly unhealthy social workers
That pick-pocket Pez dispensers
Out of working hard pre-teens.
This mattress does not fly,
These firs do not bend,
This wench does not grin,
And I am not fickle.
Hallows of my Skull (day 1200)
I carved your name into the hallows of my skull
Like a safety razor bringing back memories.
I was a Tiffany lamp casting butterflies
About the light pink empty walls of my mother’s wall.
Leaving the fly buzzing about my shifty hairs
I focused my every ounce on the skulls
Which stared back at me with unwavering attention.
It was here I lost my nerve to the valiant stork.
However, I did not float with green lantern’s cast shadow,
I dipped my soul below the line of respite
To gasp the warm air and feel the baby cacti
Rustle about closed loops of my hallowed skull.
Safety bird whistles cast dubious high pitched whispers
Towards my groaning and croaking ways,
And as I rested my wrists on the folded wooden crow
The sporadic clicking calmed my beating heart.
Distracted (day 1199)
I ran into a solid wall
Ten feet by ten feet wide.
It wasn’t for any science test,
Nor for a high paying bet.
It wasn’t for a parkour feat,
Misunderstanding or drunken stupor.
No, I had my eyes diverted,
Turned, distracted.
For there she walked.
Torrents of a Storm (day 1198)
Today I dove into the earth
Straight to my father, Hades.
He spoke of worry, and other sorts
Of malady and ill-practice.
I lamented these points
In great detail, until my eyes filled up
With great regret,
The sorts that has no name.
Persephone, the great King’s wife,
Delighted me with wine,
And as we sat in the great hall
My eyes grew heavier still.
Until the calm of so much storm
Threw me into: unearthed,
I was no longer man, no longer breathed
All I ever was did mourn.
But just as soon as hell did pass,
Just as the ghost had called my name,
I woke at once, with a great start,
And Nothing welcomed me home.
So there was I, burnt inside and out,
Left to be held close by Nothing.
There were no words, but all was said,
Until calm rolled over my mind.
Lost is always a mystery,
A lance driven in by force.
But so is joy and unbound glory,
To the victor go the spoils!
‘Till at last the weeds come out
All laid out for thy viewing,
Where sparks become the ignition
To infinity forever after.
Upon my pony I did gallop,
Into up out and off to my home.
I crawled around and foraged a while
To scavenge for my dinner’s meal.
And there I saw, in haste to my father
I had missed what now spoke to me,
A field of love, in golden ripe
Which at last meant I was at home.
The Number Two (day 1197)
Laughter is the animal,
Spirit of mother goose.
Summer around little rock
And monkey isn’t right.
Delight a fancy chimney sweep,
Pitter-patter on the roof.
Love in a tin bucket twice
Spitoon for primal juice.
Guns and other ghastly ammunition
Scare a whisper like a ghost,
Take a little sharp arrow
Pierce appointed hour aloof.
Brownstone Raindrops (day 1196)
Memories found in the smell of your skin;
I’m the glass biting straw.
I’d be inward as you shone on pretty;
A spin and a twirl just as high as I remember.
Wondering as I do, as I move close to see.
Like your arms always tingle in the end:
I’ve found the way to get through the day,
And light crawls through the room.
Breath upon my neck is a happiness I’ve been warned,
Just a slip away is all I’m left to pray.
For today the brownstone soldiers lapping my wake
Share the dominant raindrops I’ve just escaped.
Squinting (day 1195)
I lifted my eyes and squinted at the distance
Speculating on a mirage, intending to drift.
[Lost words have a tendency to echo
When moments find thee alone, lonely.]
I kick the dust. I follow an eagle trace a long line
About my imagination and wave at it motionless.
This is my breakout. This is my manhood.
I am the angel that washed out to Washington.
[I remember there was an arm that touched.
I looked and a few moments passed before I came to.]
Just like my whirlwind that had brought me to here
I sheltered the locals as I spread my arms and screamed like hell.
To arrows and sparks and roaring engines
Lifting an essence, an indescribable valor.
To sky that lifts my dream and spins my fear,
Pushing endless possibility into the cuff of my presence.
Into a distance that dances with a wavering expression,
Upon a transformation defined by these.