On the whisper night, that dark cloak
stuck to my back wet with rain, there
I hear the damaged raven gamble
to talk to the sky again
To his mumbles up in trees
I hum along a melody
not knowing of course
that what he sings
is a strange ode to me--
he calls like a parrot
to the ghost of my past
like a dirty white sheet
thrown over the clothesline of sorrow
to dry in a Camus sun
doesn't he know
as he mocks me
that time has already made me
come undone?
The beads of rain on the screen above the air conditioner are spaced out like dots on dice.
The rain stopped but now it continues to fall.
I cheer it on like a losing football team I don't know why.
I just don't want the weather to be perfect today.
I want it to rain.
A single car honks, like an afterthought.
I hear birds, where in the hell are they in all this water?
The thunder carries on, somewhat in the distance now.
A woman walked towards me
I was jealous of her curls
I looked away
rather snobbishly
with a straight face
Oh, her curls!
Another woman walked towards me
with a cool hat
large pants that flowed around her
she was a stylist with a sense of humor
and her hat was super cool striped light tan with a dark green felt brim
I looked at her with a grin and smile
she smiled back
she knew she was cool.
See how different this all is?
Thunder sweet sky, thunder on and on.
Thunder and carry me away.
Rain pour down.
Scare away all I hide from.
Wash away fear.
Water the plants of mercy.
Take all that I fake, all that I've undone.
Take all whom I've mattered to.
Take all whom have mattered to me.
Spin it all into one giant rain drop.
Land on my heart.
Break up your shapes
Use three colors
Take no prisoners
Don't think about the thing
Think about the shadow it creates
Match the thing to the shadow
Get to the shape
Remove the personality
Talk to the bone
Light the flame
Why not paint?
Rather than be in pain, when I light a fire on my own bone?
Get lost in looking
Take your hammer
Smash the standard
Lift the spirit
Free the mind
Simplify the simple
Complexity the complex
Do all the details
and get your idea across, or just do one detail.
Photograph the half.
Freeze the frame
Walk the tundra
Wrap the cloak
Kill the horse
Sleep in its belly
when the cold wind blows. Or save the horse, for Pete's sake, get a rabbit skin cloak, freeze a bit on that one cold night, then you'd have the horse to ride another day, and be the Pony Express, traveling fast to deliver the message.
Adrenaline
Peppermint
Red Scare 1950s now my windows tint
take a hint
take a free sample
take a boisterous holiday
you've earned it.
Sitting quiet in the cafe
next to a mini-vase of flowers, purple-green-and-orange
overheard:
Yeah like I don't think that like coffee really gets its due
Like how do you mean
I don't know like tea is great but coffee you know it's got this kind of pick me up
I am famished, not for food but for fame. I eat glitter and swing madly on chandeliers, hoping for some attention.
My brain has been botched by forgotten fantasies, I lived the dream up in the streetlights.
Now mercy comes to me like a black cat, sleek and mysterious, angry from clamoring in the alley for food.
His eyes dart up at me, as if to say, do you think you know what famished is?
I light a smoke and walk across the Main Street.
The power lines here cast shadows.
Mercy and Hope are playing cards, I watch them through the shop window.
Meanwhile I am out here playing checkers with my mind, waiting for the man.
The clock is blinking. It says 9:35.
But it's not 9:35.
The entire Earth spins in space at a set of degrees unknown to me,
its axis falling back and sinking into the blank slate of the infinite black sky.
Who am I?
My eyes are blinking, machine like regularity
along with my heartbeat.
There was a whisper on the wind
a quiet sound hardly begun
a leaf resting on the overlap
of the waters of the bubbling brook
Was it I who mistook love for rage?
Hate for happenstance?
Breath for beauty?
The robin flies away
I am left holding this empty blue egg.
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| image source: istock |
Some hands are meant for hammers, some hands are meant for tea
Some hands are rough to drive the nail, some are gentle, delicately
Now I see
I have these hands myself, both capabilities.
Play like a child in the sand building castles and caves and rivers and ribbons swing swords invisible wildly wielding The blood and bones ...
