sometimes when it's warm out, i look down
and it seems that there are waay too many toes.
and i wonder where they came from
and what they all think they're doing there.
but it's ok. i suppose they're just doing their thing.

throw the small pebbles
catch the small pebbles
against the wall

they're doing the same things we are doing,
except that they are very dead and a little bit famous.

if you could throw yourself out for a moment,
and if you could look up, for the moment after that,
your eyes would be wet, and your mouth full.
maybe then you could see your feet are too soaked
to be silent.
and you'd have to stand still,
and wait,
to find out whether the dough washes clean off of your bones.

there are feathers floating around
and in the middle of them, something feeling a little sweetly outdated;
corroberates the sun browning things deal.

it's so very green outside, and i take some issue with that. with that when it feels like the ground is made of one torrential water writhing so darkly around so many people. what kind of boat did we think we were on, and what is this we've got to choking on?

When you delete the "e" that begins "eyes," it becomes "yes." and that's surprisingly pretty, and simple.
I love my neighbor(hood).
And I loathe a few other things.
They stand on opposite sides of fences,
glaring at eachother.
Break it up already, folks.
Go back to trimming the hedges.
And playing croquet next to the bbq.

wink ( Read more... )

i often have my suspicions...that there's a lighter line under the dark line. that some smiles are callibrated in such intuitive baffling increments to be like trombone slides. that if you look deep enough into the sky, it changes colour. that the earth has fever, even though it feels cold when you dig a hole into it ( Read more... )

In cold, standing like a pillar, in shadows, standing like it's warmer. And it is. Flaking.

And such mundane thoughts to go with it:
"You're so old," said the doctor to his dad.
I made half a joke.
Threw the other half out--it wasn't good enough.

But the stars....awake alllll night. And singing about it.

For just a few days, or longer, I'll try the self-righteous shtick. It has its place...usually not with me, but, ya know. Anger brings colour to the cheeks, life to the blood, and fends off hurt. Maybe Caro would be proud.