Tag: spilled ink

TIME

Time lies, useless as a swordin the lake. For one, there’s time,and then, there is passage, as income, squeeze the cheeks of this little tragedy. Who will offerthe world their breast? I’m sat, couched deep in tomorrow,hands on the pulse. Tomorrow I willflip onto the pavement and pound itInto confession. Tomorrow I will flip on […]

BLUE

The taste of dish soap lingerson the rim of the teacup. You and I sit at crossroads, legsdangling over cliffs. This isan exercise in communicationby proxy, messages hiddenin the fold of an arm. Coltrane murmurs in the background likea roommate, and the televisionis switched off. This is timeless,this is the way we freeze-frame our lives, […]

INFLUENCE

  it’s not like they gave birth to me, it’s more like walking througha forest covered incobwebs in the deepof night, it’s when thevillage elders check your body for remnantsand find nothing. this is when you must bebroken and affixed,flaws masked with growth, and there isthe fire of inspirationcowing, and there is the hand that […]

COMMUNE

outside it is pouring,dark spilling over the sidewalklike a glass filled with the blood of something fragile.you and I are somewherein this flood of warmth. the rain continues to knockon the roof, a witnessto all of this nothing.time drips slow. quiet.you and I will part so soon.

BOXING

It’s not as much a tussle as much as it is a boxing match; the dodging and weaving like swerving into traffic.The reason people must inevitably bury themselves is the same as why full stops must be full.  You know the steps by heart:here is an empty space to be filled. Here is a name erased. Here is another […]

Merely Players

Paralyzed and emotionally stunted, poet finds solace in unread words. Sometime tell me it’s wrong to be. Mad, about everything and nothing. Sad about something for sure. If God is real, is this ataraxis, or bad writing?  Am I a background character on this ugly stage? The man in a tree costume. I feed, off […]

Words

i. Those fearful,distant words, these hollow,centered wishes; surely in twenty years they’d have expired. But they haven’t. Fossilized, they stay forever: pointed, sharp, piercing, true. These are facts that we cannot change. Bridges we cannot rebuild. Tell me darling how do I tie this rope’s frayed ends into one again? How do I forget the taste […]