You billow out from beyond my belief,
Strangling storm windows
Which turns me blank with divert.
I cross out
Little errors that shape tomorrow
Without missing a beat.
Yet here I am,
Following little sounds
Towards curious places
And letting my soul speak and be heard.
How curious these rays become.
Tag: windows
The Village Park View (day 1222)
Buildings look bigger when I’m not moving.
When I can sit and stare and observe
How ominous they behave
Sitting there, beyond.
I understand how they get there;
Months of toiling and clanging and
Larger than life machinery hoisting up
More than just imaginations.
I understand they fulfill some eager desires
And transplant thousands of civilians
Into one common – or at least proxy’d – goal.
But I still sit and wonder as they tower in the vista,
Waving at me motionless with wires and reflections.
I try to count the windows and cubbies and features
That line the facade, but my eyes have become
Weak with vastness.
It’s amazing to see the intricacies,
How erecting smaller things
Like a shelf or a picture frame
Can flummox the wisest of scholars.
Complexity of alignment,
How marvelous these structures.
When I wave my goodbyes they smile back.
They all let me know how nice it’s been to
Share these moments together.
Glimpse Of Sharing (day 912)
I am unafraid to love
To catch my sideways glances
That leave my habits aglow
Fragments that caress imagination
Tipping over the empty jars
That glow with evanescence
Curtly labelled memories
I don’t break glass
I tye dye stickers
And write fancy hearts
Around magical names
Like ‘elexir’ or ‘potion’
That stick to the windows
Of empty jars
Call it a reason
A lazy r that rolls off the tongue
Slipping into evening gowns
With a warm cup of tea
A sombre evening left be
Let be
So be
I’m unafraid to spell it out
Remind you of a moment
A glimpse of sharing
To open the windows
Left empty and void
Of stickers and butterflies
Filled with empty hearts
Snapping Swiggleworms for Mr. Figglehorns (day 663)
Snapping frustrations and beetle bug-off-alis
I’ve come to the end of my rope!
I’ve chewed all these trees
And felled a great home
Just to lose it all to a mouse!
The Mrs can’t stand it
Won’t sleep for a wink
With that vermin’s scratching work at night
Start over again?!?
This ones gone on so well!
I’ve even built us two tiny windows!
The Mrs, you know ladies
Loves the window for sunsets…
Front door’s been painted
Kitchen’s been reno’d
My shed! Five years, it’s nearly complete!
Oh, I’ll get that there mouse
I’ll find him at last
Even if it takes me straight to the grave
Mr. Figglehorns can be purchased here.
Silken Sheets (day 428)
That night as the warm wind blew through the unsettled windows
Driving armies of little prickles down the side of my exposed legs
Drawing warmth from the naked maiden, eyes closed, semi-lucid
But the myth of time that ticks silently on in the blurry distance
Calls out names that ring familiar through my ears
Itching at the lost memories that shan’t return again
Smiling at the pure maiden of the sweet summers night
And knowing it won’t last much longer in spite the desolation it entails
Grabbing hands tear at the strings laid upon my back
And I sit back down, resting my frayed hairs upon the silken sheets
Windows (day 365)
Some little shit
Keeps closing the windows
I’m beginning to lose my patience
With this bloody heat in these cars
Shadows (day 275)
Cool nights like these are the ones that seek my own sanity
Deep within the pipe whistle that blares out these two toned ears
Like the sharp edges that cut this time so
Perhaps the shadows will be a bit more forgiving
With their loss of dimensions
All willy nilly changing to the motion of light
Sometimes here, sometimes there
Sometimes falling in a steady glow about your gaze
Transfixed into the lost souls that speak forgotten tongues
Yet work the windows like Jack Frost in the waking hour
Don’t mind that scratching sound now
Don’t mind those omnipresent shadows
Don’t mind the strange noises crawling down your spine
Don’t forget to say your prayers tonight
The City (day 269)
Windows
And faces
And murals
And cement
And brick
With mortar
Smells
And stains
And trash
And brooms
And homeless
With doubt
Sounds
And colours
And damage
And cursing
And beauty
With breath
Growing (day 44)
Dirty windows seem to obstruct my view
Into the far beyond; the void of reason
Poorly washed without the substance
Clearly showing wear in edges
Mold is flourishing where the going gets moist
Vines keep creeping where the wall gives way
A glow escapes where the sun flickers
And I sit blinded, mesmerized