I am naked,
Hands in pockets of skin so sharp.
A diamond with my hammers,
Device to misunderstanding.
Crawling out magic bullets
Hurting piss-ant plus my gold,
Wisdom without a wand
Closes my book, forever warned.
Tag: hand
My Land | Chapter III (day 1126)
I remember when the wind blew so hard one year it would blow over our tin cups that weren’t full on the old weathered kitchen table. Our house was warm when the fire was hot, and well ventilated in the summer – we can say that. It ain’t easy being a pioneer, when the land is dry and winters are cold.
The thoughts drain my efforts, drain my life. They’re happy thoughts when you remember the past, but they’re also jagged edges that twist the time away like yesterday was my mothers hand.
There should be holes in my heart with all the bullets I’ve let go. And all the tears that I’ve cried.
This life makes a man hard before he knows how to sing. Like the twisting pines around these parts that I know each by name.
And firewood.
[note: to read the full epic track my land]
Desire Root (day 1117)
I am living unearthed
Separated from my root
Desire spreads deep.
Crazy, and amazing:
A freedom I am able,
Lifting and light.
To where letters fall down,
Sifting like fine sands
Into unforgotten hands.
Rest is never fate.
Desire waste-not,
I’ve landed again.
Figurative Hand Memories (day 1061)
So the moon blinked and I saw what I had been waiting to see.
Like sweet flowers and long grass setting in the warm summer’s afternoon sun;
I saw that windows were figurative,
That Angels were literal,
That icons were forgotten memorizations,
And that caveats were the peaks and troughs of her supple skin
My hands caressed so.
My hands caressed so.
My hands caressed like wild winds flirting giant oaks
Drawing shadows as elixir cursed through my thoughts.
Here it danced amongst and on.
Where I thought I had begun, and knew I had rolled back to.
So I swam – figuratively – and saw what I had been waiting to see.
Walking Tall (day 1028)
He walked away and he wasn’t walking tall
He shrouded and hunkered;
Fixed and determined and leaving.
Under one arm was clutched a notebook
Used regularly for scribblings and incidentals,
The other held nothing:
Bare, sober, exposed.
Not waving or weighing, but tucked neatly inside
A warm and worn pocket
Reserved for the odd receipt.
But mostly for his hand, unconsciously scrunched
Into a ball that hardly swayed
As his slouch carried him away.
My Red-Red Blue (day 1015)
Indecisively I shifted your heart into my hand
I lingered here a while, debating the weight
Massaging veins that beat uncontrollably
Over and over I turned the red-red blue organ
I looked for a way in – an answer or a keyhole
That would somehow give me what I didn’t know
What did I know? But did I know?
A reflection in the mirror caught my eye
Self portraiture for another day
Here I beat; lifelessly solemn, sublime
Another memory for those who began to fade
Where spots of sun traversed endlessly
From this Ledge (day 1000)
From this ledge I looked out beyond,
I surveyed the stillness.
Waiting,
Expecting,
Un-avoiding brief glimpses
Of society’s marks;
Transport trucks rumbling
In and out of earshot.
From this ledge I held onto a hand,
I held on so tight to remind me
That in spite surmountable distances,
In spite out-of-control conveniences
I wasn’t alone here;
Alone in my thoughts.
This wasn’t my diary,
This was my acceptance refusal.
From this ledge I plotted.
I took every hemlock and spruce
Inside my heart and nurtured their spirit
To grow with me as I carved my initials
Into their supple skin, raw so real;
Nature entwined my soul and became me
And I became it.
And I lept from this ledge with eyes wide open.
Exactly 29 Times (day 988)
Mystically speaking, the proverbs are relating accurately;
Horizontally strengthened with the thinnest of threads
Circled around my baby finger exactly 29 times
In a very tightly strewn pattern, accidentally.
Insomniac. Running at top speeds with wild horses;
That old farmhouse sitting amongst poppies and buttercups
Where I’ve lived once before; a feeling from depths unexplainable
Leveraging it’s way amongst modernities.
So it was a callused palm that broke this frozen spell;
Alone upon a park bench of inner city, inner beauty,
Brook bubbling by with homeless and suits (much quicker)
An eye awoke to stretch it’s glorious wings wide.
To which I had never encountered before;
To who I had never held hands with before;
To where I had never stepped in and amongst before;
To here, to this home of a quietly broken fear.
Teach Me the Moment of That (day 972)
Teach me the moment of that.
The moment we collided
In an orchestral orgasm,
Ecstasy of fragrants and essences…
And soft music blowing
Leaves in a swirl about our thoughts
That hang like spring rainclouds.
Teach me the moment of that.
Where I walk on the balls of my feet
Through soft summer warmed sand.
Seagulls walking quietly, lazily,
Hand in hand with sunglasses and oversized hats
That smile at most all things,
And run home to.
Daemon (day 964)
Could you hold my hand
Unzip the past;
Let the edges break off, away.
Could we lift the moon
– High up above –
To share it’s calming embrace.
Could our souls entwine
Wildly mixed with time
To the edges of our daemon