A picture of a day in high society or famous newspaper images.

Pictures stick and journeys
follow.

Images hold in them a truth which
truth itself is far too ashamed to
relay.

What images? Cultural ones,
social ones, "what is it your friends
REALLY think?"

Images are embodied by a local
and national truth. The national message:
what we are sold, the point of view in plain view,
general public. The local observation: like
the first breath of a student hitting the cold atmosphere
on a winter day (a dispersion follows, the bitterness
of the cold is felt, tactile).

Pictures stick at a mile a minute and journeys
follow.

How far will we take this void?
What darkness shelters our pictures?
Who owns the flashlight?

Where will this journey take us?

squinting

looking into the dark void
trying to find an answer
looking into the dark void
the dark void is the answer

to my audience
the conceptual body of critics
i conjure up imagery
to suggest understanding through analogy

to do this
and
to do that

these tenses imply hope

presently belly down, sucking the dank air
idealizing the days of the erect
i won't find hope
it must be created

to my audience
observe as my posture evolves

~~aves and Oircles

if you find me lost
point me to the nearest coast
no matter what the cost
or how cold the frost
i will find my way across
and swim out again until i'm lost

Who Am I?

Slight transformations,
Round the bend, discrete
but alert, paying attention to what
lays ahead, allowing pedestrians
to pass me by, goal in sight,
physical and mental chase afoot,
target has turned the bend,
acceleration in brute force,
target is aware, on the go, running,
rushing, flying by trashcans and
debris.

No sense in keeping quiet now,
wrapping staircase, smashing through glass window,
chasing a phantom through dark hallways,
alarms flashing, screeching, warning,
and up the staircase, through the 20th floor entrance,
head thrown into light, smashing the light,
blood gushing from the hit,

the target snickers,
the self shudders
and

blackout.

exercises in futility

existence framed by context of life
life, like a word, is a timeless creature
erratic flow
constant transformation
passing through peoples' principles
a moment of madness, then shrill silence
castles made of kitty litter

(r)evolution

the sun is beat
i am thirsty as a rock
less aroused to pursue
out but nowhere
darkest secrets foggy, unread
leering eyes stare into me
minds scatter hydraulically
infinitely optimistic

intangible

Unfurl, drop.
Sensation to the fingertips,
wiggle them, shake off the
feeling from your head,
shoulders roll,
mind, all clear.

Step past the object,
light to start, now
the wind slowly picks up,
float forward, all that
muck starts its buzzing about
and slowly the pace quickens
to a trot, head shaking
away the wasps of muck,
biting at skin.

hone in, quicken the pace,
leaving that point behind,
for miles of moments,
disappear, the desert ahead,
lightning sloth,
cowboy free.

and..

the weight resurrects and
the trot slows, stop,
catch a breath.

Now, unfurl, drop.