Dried up like
a river mouth,
cotton-balled,
dirt and sand,
wavy lines,
the past deserted.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
A transactional snicker
Ahh, the three egos,
fighting for attention,
seeking the mysterious
title of navigator,
like a schizophrenic computer
program.
Ahh, every transaction that we make
takes shape, angular!
And yet the angles do not gleam
that complexity, instead a leaner
version of the three takes hold,
we are all reduced to these three
(we're told).
Ahh, and the games we play,
so rich with patterns of
happenstance;
hold a mirror to a mirror
and all you see is all you'll get.
fighting for attention,
seeking the mysterious
title of navigator,
like a schizophrenic computer
program.
Ahh, every transaction that we make
takes shape, angular!
And yet the angles do not gleam
that complexity, instead a leaner
version of the three takes hold,
we are all reduced to these three
(we're told).
Ahh, and the games we play,
so rich with patterns of
happenstance;
hold a mirror to a mirror
and all you see is all you'll get.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Yarblockos
When the rarest bird hath flown the coup, I found myself in the graveyard, 2 blocks east of Sixth Street. It had happened before and I had a thought. Had the bird not flown, he would be imprisoned.
A courageous flight, straight arrow to Albuquerque, no exits on this flight, no stopovers. There will be no in-flight movie this evening, a voice announced, and we won't be offering you any refreshments on this flight. So a straight and narrow path.
I peddled insanity in those days. A youthful notion of truth and reality, bubble gum and masking tape holding the fort. I scratched my foot into the dirt before a stone that read "Here lies our beloved.." I spat my gum into the little hole I had dug and quickly kicked up the brown morsels and rocks over it. I could see a couple in the nearby distance holding a cold gaze in my direction. I had desecrated this site with my lack of respect. The birds were vultures now and I the moving carcass.
If the bird had not flown, he would be imprisoned. I tried to tell the couple, but they ran, terrified, repenting, tightly cutting the corner and clamoring away from Sixth Street. I held off on the couple and headed back to the stone. It's a straight shot to Albuquerque I said to myself, a straight and narrow path. Had the bird choice, would he have flown the coup? Freedom or sleep? I laid down in front of the stone and closed my eyes.
Its a long road to Albuquerque.
A courageous flight, straight arrow to Albuquerque, no exits on this flight, no stopovers. There will be no in-flight movie this evening, a voice announced, and we won't be offering you any refreshments on this flight. So a straight and narrow path.
I peddled insanity in those days. A youthful notion of truth and reality, bubble gum and masking tape holding the fort. I scratched my foot into the dirt before a stone that read "Here lies our beloved.." I spat my gum into the little hole I had dug and quickly kicked up the brown morsels and rocks over it. I could see a couple in the nearby distance holding a cold gaze in my direction. I had desecrated this site with my lack of respect. The birds were vultures now and I the moving carcass.
If the bird had not flown, he would be imprisoned. I tried to tell the couple, but they ran, terrified, repenting, tightly cutting the corner and clamoring away from Sixth Street. I held off on the couple and headed back to the stone. It's a straight shot to Albuquerque I said to myself, a straight and narrow path. Had the bird choice, would he have flown the coup? Freedom or sleep? I laid down in front of the stone and closed my eyes.
Its a long road to Albuquerque.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
brick, mortar, mortality
the fortresses people build in their hearts
will be humble coffins when the soul departs
will be humble coffins when the soul departs
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
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