“What are you watching?”
“Again! You watched that for three hours.”
“It’s time for mailtime!”
“Look Look!, And Magenta’s there!”
“Magenta and Blue… best friends!”
As a squirrel you burrow, you burrow from the dog that’s been chasing you down the street and in and out between the oak tress for the past mile, you burrow to hid the acorns that are poking at the thin skin puffed out in bulbous balloons at your cheeks, you burrow and you burrow all day long to reach a soft and cozy spot to nap in while that same…[Read more]
unhinge those jaws, loose those gears past your tonsils, let them turn and grind, relaxing the tendons of your vocal cords. you hear that dust phewing into the air, that squeaking groan and complaining of that voice you’ve kept hidden inside, that slow and quiet release?
it’s a finalizer, the signature at the end of the contract,
the promise that what came before is finished.
at the end,
it’s a point
what if it is a signal for the beginning
the cheaky wink of a beauty mark
– not a blemish
its a twinkle, a wink,
the noise pointed high
like a mountain, it peaks about the clouds and tufts of hair
and down he looks, with the eyes of Zeus
and the judgement of his thunder and lightning, bolts that flash in the cold calculation of his gaze
all-knowing (even miscalculated as it is)
is the vote
It’s a quiet scent, underneath it all, lingering.
It doesn’t yell for you, scream for you, shout for it.
It floats there, just under the shimmer of his over indulgent smile, the shine of his over enthusiastic gaze.
It’s a hazy, unfocused scent – blurring his crisp edges and softening them with its cotton must.
you gather them and pick them, like the puffs of daffodils, those seedy things that blow so easily from the exhale of your breathing, you pick them as the child that wanders through the grassy hills by the sidewalk, wandering away from their parents outstretched arms.
picking, and as you continue on,
the slight brush of your…[Read more]
there is an officer outside of my door that paces and wanders, his shadow sifting through the carpet fibers just under the frame, in it slithers through the crack between the doors bottom and the floor. can i escape? i wonder. but there he passes again, that shadow flowing treacherous through the sunlight filtered in there underneath.
get off your tuckus, now. you know you’ve been wondering, debating, waffling, chewing on that inner flesh of your cheek, mulling over your excuses, turning them over til they’re as rock hard as that pancake you don’t know is done yet or not, or that burger you’ve squashed til all it’s juices are run out, spluttering there in the pan. don’t drown…[Read more]
the word is misleading, “actual.” it falls from the lips, unready. “actual.” as if it’s been dangling, clinging the whole time. sweating droplets of precarious anticipation at drowning any moment, tumbling to the abyss of a sudden fall to death at the pass of a hat. “actual.” what in fact is actual?
as you roam through the street, in the twinkle of the snow as they drift and flutter, dotting through the street lamp as it floods in circular spots above, they scatter before you. as you approach each new sheet of wonder that floats and drizzles and flutters there before you, they part to let you wander through. and the few flakes that don’t…[Read more]
faith is measured in disappointments and in the moments where faith hinges on barely nothing. it’s the increments of the faithless moments, those empty life seconds where everything seems to slip away that faith can be measured. how much is present in those such empty moments, thats how much is bottled in you, how much reserve is available to…[Read more]
the arts are a dying language, a whimpering form of communication. it’s words only sometimes but its that expressive method of conveying ideas, notions, the images in your head to someone else, someone outside yourself that is dying… and will you revive it? will you breathe color back into that black and white landscape that still rolls and…[Read more]
major. major changes. there is a sharp turn up ahead and your gears are shifted, you’re ready to hit that brake but you’ve still got your toes revving up on that gas, there is a major turn ahead and it’s curving dangerously around, pointing towards something you still can’t yet see still can’t yet know. are you ready?
i keep my feelings on guard. there’s a little man outside the safe that locks into place right where my right ventricle must be, the one that must lead its way up to the recesses of my brain where the logic is. i like to think that little man, balding and nervous biting his nails against the possible jailbreakers on the loose is sitting with his…[Read more]