Followers

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

k(now) nothing (more)

she spoke softly;
                    lying; 
                  subtly;
                              winking flirtatiously
                                      out of existence.

       (hand in hand 
       with amputee'd eyes)

so i listened to her 
           whimpering, 
                   socially
                                withdrawn, we drew 
                                way outside the lines

       (k)now that
       one hand will hold the other
                           (k)now that
                           one hand will wash the other

       (k)now that
       one eye will watch the other

       so that now (k)no(w) (one an)other.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

op(poseable) exis(tense)

blackbirds 
          hang 
                         like puppets from 
            the (power)(lines)

still praying dead 
on the esca-

                ("later" 
                          "yeah, 
                           see ya")

my shoelaces are 
        (caught) 
in the subtle 
                  under
                        -tones of your v(o)ice

                   still spitting feathers into the wind

i've been here 
         hating 
            waiting 
                changing 
                                           (shape)
 
while my figmented existence    
            cr
                um
        b
                       les
 
yours 
                  just 
                           b(end)s

Grocery Cart, or, A Limited Supply Of Test Pilots

                         (CRASH!)

               the splinters spiral, in
                   gritty stop-,motion,
                   monotoned 
                          kaliedoscopes
                   in arms
                                with hands
                   and no head.

          i'll cart off the pieces that couldn't take it (amputated-
                                                        but, somehow already
                                                        amputees.),
          to wrap them up two-by-two in the tub (wrapped 
                                                        up pretty 
                                                        in a shower curtain)

         and wait, 
         with the pieces that didn't land 
                                   softly enough

                        waiting, for the pieces 
                        to either heal, or 
                        stop twitching nervously

                i think,
                i'm gonna hide here
                with a Simmon's Kleen-Kutter,
                and a manilla envelope
                full of photographs
                                  and journal(entry)s
                full of fingrnails and spit

        the survivors
        will eat greedily of 
        those that didn't make it, and
             like all else 
             -if all else fails-
             they'll start picking at the locks, and
                                  gnawing on the hinges

                i'll see them
                through the key-hole 
                of the needles eye, in
                glancing porcelain-white skeletons
                                        with flashlight eyes
                              -fingering- 
                the spider webs 
                in between their ribs
                                     and second chances.


deflated

               so there were turths, and forbidden.
               

the sloughing off of
what we are ''attached'' to
                       (attracted to) 
                       refracted and
                         collapsible. balloons that are
                                               all out of breath. 
                                the strings
rub and callouse our fingers,
reaching for the floor;

smearing.

swearing.

swerving.

the dregs of what we
                      wish for, in faulty wishing wells
                      with reciepts 
             (for tax purposes).

              i am a figment 
              of my own right.

                                the pigments of blind sight
                                (faith lost in the undertow)

              so there are truths,
              and forbidden; reaching
                                          over our shoulders, for   
                                                     the night before.

the man with the cardboard sword

                 everyone 
                        is a billboard.

                 it's easier to understand, 
                 with the speakers blaring
                         into either course of history;
                         writhing in affections, the
                 severance of severing
                 maiming the callousment.

                 (beauty in the bathwater)

                                                                blind.

                 senses dulled on the blade;
                 fingers dangle in mine; we're 
                 strangled in the harvest of said 
                                                   "possession", 
                 there's
                 beauty in the bathwater...

                                                               blind.

the magical number seven (plus or minus two)

        they are waiting for me.
        
        in rain soaked hoods 
        and fallen leaves,
                        with sixteen stitches 
                        and fo(u)r needles.

          the color in here, -it's just,
                        just the (i'm)(press)ion i needed

                        the memory of events, is startling;
                        starting with the li(n)es, shad(y)ing, 
                        and the colors...

                        all the vivid col(ours)