Blog by Hannah Frank
Audience dance
happenstance chance
Glance
at the fancy pants
fall
into a trance
keep
your balance
hold out your hands
spin and shaman luck shape shift grin
rip and ruby press hold this in
heart love cramp passion slip my lip
change my pockets give me hips
Black on black
suffering fool
Rip me apart
it will be cool
Heartbeat Betty
scoops the loop
It's sorty heavy
war cry whoops
Harley Davidson
Grand Canyon Boots
I took my vacation
then I fell moot
In my past life I was a passion flower
pink and rosy blue with yellow insides
melting in the heat of a jungle
in the Amazon
In my god days I was a monk
silent and ringing in that silence
the halls of stone
the mountain of grace
In my glory days I was a ball player
shooting baskets at the buzzer
popping champagne
In my zombie apocalypse years
I was living in a bunker
face covered with dry blood
trying to connect the wires for the bomb
In my jazz days I was a rhumba player
tapping the skins outside in the firelight
by the cafe it was so poetic
it would make Van Gogh swoon
his red hair glistening
under the lights
his eyes
on blue fire
Do the details matter, he looked at me
sideways and sinewy like the seaweed floats on the surface.
Climbing into my soul like a germ into a cadaver,
he escaped me only to find himself on the forest floor,
looking up where the sun breaks through the trees.
Did he kneel for me?
Or was that just my imagination.
Written while listening to Youtube...
Millions of dollars in the pockets of several federal judges
hand picking files and complying with selected directions,
and the FBI is going through the sealed transcript.
Someone will selectively prosecute the leader of Congress
the communications from the deadlines show executive
complications became contemptuous
and seniority obstructed the court.
These crayons so thin, like my fingers get
long like shadows on the canyon walls
I roll the ring around in circles the silver lining of the clouds
spinning around and around
this thing of dreams this Rubix Cube
clicking this way and that
the ears of the fox twitching
as the clouds like giant white mice
race across the sky
The stones in the river, a thousand colors of a rainbow
get rounder and rounder as time passes them
wet, sweet and clear
I dip in my hand and drink
my long fingers hold the water
if I hold them tight together
and lift life to my mouth
I get on my belly and drink more
my knees are sore
I close my eyes
I have been painting pictures on the rocks
the caves and crannies of this world
In the colors I find the breadth of fire
and talk to the sky
in my own language
my fingers
this charred earth
makes lines
running my fingers across the walls of the cave
these crayons so thin
make a thick connection
to the other side
it pulls at my guts
Update the scotch and whiskey and pour it on my mind
I've been deranged and hungry and it's almost supper time
The nuances are lost like lambs I haven't got the fingerprints to touch
the edge of the glass sitting next to the couch
I'm tired and I'm old and made of gold and rubber stamps
Climbing all the walls at once I haven't got a chance
To leave my home in disrepair to fly into the wind
the hen escapes the henhouse
when the fox comes creeping in
I long to be
The Fairy of Peace
To move men's hearts to paint canvas
And not draw blood.
Hello everyone,
So sad that you could be here today in our moments of quiet boredom, numb to the death of civilians and counting the monstrosities on our hands and running out of fingers. So glad that the bombs that dropped today on Youtube fell silently in a forest of chaos, every bit and byte sauntering through the light waves of French physicists and landing on the ground next to the angel who spied on Newton in the apple orchard with a compelling thud. No fear not that these tragedies will last more than a day, we will have more gas lighting coming your way soon. No worries.
The cupboards full of overpriced groceries will bend, giving way to the new dawn of Authority as Democracy is held in a vice grip like a pet cat running out of mice. Our goons, cloaked in ICE gear and full of grenades in their stomachs will blow up peacefully, and you can watch from a distance, on your Apple Watch.
Sincerely yours,
The United States Government
She sits on the mountain
free
at last
I've learned so many things from pain
I need to thank her
Audience dance happenstance chance Glance at the fancy pants fall into a trance keep your balance hold out your hands spin and shaman lu...
