the morning sky split open its blue myst skirts to sun me weary and forlorn, driving my mazes home … the cheese at the end of this two dimensional sketch
the sun’s vagina eye flirts light and orange fire with night’s black modesty
timid as any new sunrise, it teases and spits brilliance, a hint of all that could be
and when it finally emerges fulllblown and hot red to gold
the sheen burns my pupils to witness a radiance i was never meant to see
the warmth on my skin still nudges me to look up and risk a bit of blindness for a chance with the sun spot, an ingulgence, a release from the pain of seeing and feeling all you could never reach
When life itself withers us and leaves us nothing
can it be said that that which injures us (on that pure merit)
is not meant for us to experience?
or is the very nature of experience one of grasping Anathema,
wrapping it in our fragile fleash in order to share it out
like broken bits of worms and a strong mother’s saliva
nourishing the souls of the Masses?
and now for my next trick …. i will give you beauty to forego truth
an observation of fear—
It’s like spouting flies
And saliva
Like revelations
Like yesterday
Reckoned with too late
No more than words
Are self-projection
A devotion to paper causes
And actualization
More than pieces
Is like peace of mind
Uneaten pieces of cake
Ant-filled coffee cakes
Held breath
Overflowing, toilet sounds
And no more like promises
Is it not
Better to be
Needle-pinned, butterfly wings
Than pluckered, protein flies
Of wine jars
Pride fermenting in a beautiful lie
Ripe, ready to be
Amber stupidity over flat decay
Correct lighting to make up for emotion
—Nowadays
It’s always safely substituted and afraid
Ready to be…
Drowned and sleeping forever
in this day to day pastiche
of plastic emotions
gnawed to bones, gristly and gastly
by those capable of surviving the nature
of these unnatural surroundings
I’m brought to wonder
are any alive,
or do we merely twist and jerk
in the tide?
at this moment, working on finishing your CDs
when she returns
hummm … been away so long, so long … moments fly … things change … time is turning a dirty green and i bow my head to what an “artist” will fear most …. the capitalist rat race as you have discussed in so many journal entries ago … it is not so bad, people fascinate … working in a bar, doing art as i want and when time will allow … dormant again … missing and missing … yet i am content in fallout …
forgiveness is an unfathomable space from me to you, if that’s what you ever wanted … or just reassurance or just a chance to fly … you are not obligated to me … just remember me … no excuses, no shame, just do it, you know … yes, but summer craziness, as you can see i have been away for so long … am moving soon *again* so a word to the transient soul, catch me while you can, pretty butterfly …
Re: when she returns
i won’t have an address for awhile …