It was cold & the sky was too red as the sunset came too early - my brain was spinning with those letters & numbers & they were falling out of my ears. I looked at the asphalt and I saw my past and future yawning out - both in the same direction on the one-way road but my ears were too cold to listen, to learn. It was too austere in the building & too frigid outside & too glacial in the car picking its way home through the ice and old snow. It was too much too few & not enough of anything at all. & it swarmed. Threes with wings and velocities out with compound eyes buzz & sting & leave me paralyzed, there on the curb.
What is perfect and complete? Delicacies, meat, cheese, The foodie speaks conquest and fantasy, But a cancer progresses, spreads rapidly. Tragedies of vanity, then agony, Then bankruptcy, former life a dream. Fantasies now of revenge, or mercy, Meaning, offers of a promise of peace, I can eat simple meals and still be. Human being, like a clever machine.
I can't fly, I buy a plane, afraid, Is it I, or the world that changed? Doing, but why? Moon in the sky, The music has died away: Civilized, civil eyes describe, My cymbals, rides and chains. Time changes, I stay behind, afraid, I can't fly, I can't buy a plane, Or move to a space in my mind, Tiny place, stimuli, to hide my pain. Like shrines to a saint, myself, I can overprice, play faces like chess, Trite, then replace with tech. In my camp by the lake, Water arrests the trees. Wolf, that tames itself, Realizes little of anyone else, Sees no bigger dreams, Eats the best, but what for me?
ceaseless, i wait here in my hall of stone. my continuous, meditative, monotonous vigil only broken by the sound of a camera shutter or the scratch of charcoal over rough paper. my silence never ends, since my marble knees do not know the hour when they will straighten and carry me away, nor my spine knows when to crack and unfurl my body tall, higher than the skylight under which i am displayed, nor my dainty dress knows when to settle itself more comfortably over my shoulders. so here i remain, forever more statue than woman. one evening, out of the blue twilight the night guard saunters in, bold and butch and self-assured (her footfalls give her away) without warning, she leans in close, shining her beam in my placid face, and i cannot blink away the yellow light (and never would, just to glimpse once more upon her lovely face) hastily she whispers in my ear, instantly transforming my marble to rose quartz and slowly then, she kisses me, soft and earnest and fleeting and suddenly i am more woman than statue.
here i lie (not yet asleep) in my childhood bedroom (my soul to keep) under my childhood quilt (made by my grandmother) holding my childhood cat (could there by any other?) and listening to the cicadas cry over (mourn) the loss of my sister (come morn) when she moves away (just to our college town) into her tiny, adulthood dorm (someday to wear a cap and gown) with her adulthood newfound friends(i thought it was just the four of us) and her adulthood future portends (why couldn't it have always been the four of us?) and listening to her professors drone on (just like the cicada) as she compiles reports, and essays, in jargon (raw data) and- and- and i wonder, will she miss me too?
Inside its silent eyes lies science, 'Mine', like a child it cries, looks outside. Giant's eyes wide, where is his gigantic pile? His highest pride defiled by tyrants, Find me a guy who wouldn't sigh. Final smiles, like wind can fly by, like time it flies by, like kites. Like a demon the giant tries, Though like giant piles of hay, May blow away in the wind, Giants below may just might, Or unjust, but ultimately he decides.
Flag, Grab a torch, same hand, Have fun with your vote: Another hand a sword, It opens a can of corn. Fake hammer throw, Judges, like rabbits, Run back to their holes. Rather than face the day, The code and its ghosts. Instead, They make jokes, they make shows, They make notes, that, of course, Exclude their track record of control. That dirt road, saddled by war, Addled by the hammers thrown, Fools who took no land unknown, Who speak a language encoded, Take advantage of the locals. What is wealth, cash of course? But it's also a canvass of bone, Grass in the mouth of a mud horse.
Woof, they say, Speech inhumane, They study what they hate, Play games with racists. Beasts, in with the snails: Dharma talks, From a far off mosque. Set those dogs apart, Even if the numbers great. They don't want to talk, Just bark, bark, bark. The dogs that they are.
Meaningless draught, meandering feeling, Bar talk, believe not the sweet whispering, Thinking things talked in the deep darkness, They aught, talk turns to action, They are what they are. Sinking stone, mephitic toad of the ocean floor, What does the heart wish for? Winning wars? Logistic growth? Cathartic revolt? Ownership? Satan, do you hear your kindred souls? Card or cash, is all they know. They see fawns freeze in the snow, and move on, it's things seen from a car. It's part of a laundry list of misgivings, They want what they want, They are what they are.
A wake-up call, A veil must fall, He always spoke in ways of god, Unfortunately he spoke that way a lot. He spoke simply, of knaves and farms, Like he spoke in the name of god. Like the oil on the water, It leaves a glistening wake behind it; Eyes are like the rays of dawn. Flames stream from a mouth; Sparks of fire shoot out the nostrils, Dragon tall, shakes the castle walls. So can you blame them, When they say fuck off? Nothing on earth is its equal, A creature without fear, And it comes for us, The reign of law.
Estoppel, Mothers teach their daughters: Fear god like a cannon, It's about what comes after, Thanks can turn like a cavern. Characters in novels, Monuments in their honor, Buildings to hurl themselves off of, In life, it appears less often, Withering is more common. Peer down the fandom: Book like a standard, Fans buy a good lie. Banks burn like a tavern, Like a blanket in shambles By the fire that looks fine. Estoppel: The dragon sighs, Wishes a sweet prince, good night, Gone is he with the fire.
If a caperberry were a fish, Would it still be in your dish, What food do you eschew, fool? Escargot, bear, fruit and goose? Verily, ask yourself this: Do you know all, what is good? Like bitter roots, Like butter runs, Desire, let me dissolve into the slime, Like a newborn child who never sees the sun.