Wednesday 31 March 2010

thirty one

31.3.10

Thirty one days March by..
31 in a couple years..
ago-

Thirty one flavors.
Only one mattered.
If you know-
you know me..

where tiny pink spoons were better than silver.
Pink like bubble gum.

Toothpaste puddles foam at the horizon
where filth and air combine.

The violin darkens the sky and a film begins-

Thirty one.
He is a character, not of that number..
he is a seasoned cowboy..

He is The Dude-
thinner than.. also looking for his
rug ged
woven dwelling..dwindling..
snake eyes.. denims adored..
folds like fish gills..
like somebody I met before.

I want to meet him again.
Re-meet.

Years older..
turquoise rubber bands the matted pony-
for the ride
the voyage
ahead.

Neutral,
yet he does not blend..
armored heart?
perhaps not..

Luminescent to me..

I am rainwater traveling through a tiny pipe..

and the thirty others have evaporated.

One.

I feel like dancing,
momentarily.

I am thirsty.

dRip dRoP

30-01-10

Monday 29 March 2010

dON't lOOk bAck

Don't look back.

Brothers of wood
grain.
strain in the cavernous world of
wax.

Wood brothers in rain-
warped
ways split-
collided
midnight swimming.
swarming.
steaming like the buzz of
be ings
pressed like
pedal's
full throttle of a delicate
beast.
breast alarmed and
arisen.

Erased.
rippled reflection.
rips.
shadow following
-us all-
like a stare
a scare..

Girls of seven,
poised.
lunch pails.
uniforms.
pony tails.
should be speech of unicorns..

instead-
'racially abusive about driver
who keeps us still for moments.

Their feet don't even touch the ground..
making it all the worse.

... and i can't help but looking back.

Buckets of rain-
buckets of tears.
-------
fear's in the eye.
he said it is a good thing.

Fear the gateway
to the souL.

I ask why
and i continue to wander and
wonder through it all..

Still i look back.

Still i try to figure it all out.

I'm not sure that it is possible
nor
meant to be.

Saturday 27 March 2010

SaTurDay TuRn bAck (15)


_______________
January 9 2006
3am
_______________

Dark. I lay. Dimly writing. Barely
able to see.
See clearly.

Can't define emotion & circumstances.
Impulse.
Grasped by moments & acceptance
I will enter the altered state.

One will be there.

An escape from the confusion-

The iron mind will rest.

Free to live and imagine.
Free to enjoy and love guiltlessly.

All smiles and warm touch
waiting...
for me to seep
through the keyhole..

As one has seeped into me.

Lovely.

I will be freed.

Did and didn't 26-3-10

I layed in glue last night
and couldn't get out of bed..

I heard a song
and couldn't stop the feeling.
I didn't want to.

Seeing young life, passionate love & light about the letter F..
I couldn't stop staring. Smiling.

Stepping up the stairs upon destination
I couldn't stop counting.
Twenty-five this time.

What a good birthday that was..

What a cold feeling this is...
Morning Wind.
Open to interpretation.

Thursday 25 March 2010

Wednesday 24 March 2010

snAp

A man causes a stir.
Missed train.
Doors closed.
TOO early.
Tearless shouts.
Repetitive biting of his hand.
Shouting of his ailments..
his obsession..
like Rainman
where a missed train means more to he than you or I...

I think of him all day...
and now.
He in his tweed jacket..
his trauma..

how me going with him would have been the wrong way
yet the right way in the burrow of my four chambered
beat
box
I board
mine
and regress
through the wires
of spring bloom-
bOOm...
_______________________

Percussion like a snake's hiss
miss
it as your eyes roll back
of the neck tender
with skin of a peach
in the sky
is the limit
less..
boundless
bounce
between my ears.
i am dots.
he is houndstooth.
palms of precision.
perfection-slick-
reflection
like a lake of onyx
a deep stare of a pupil
grand
piano.
stand
band.
snAp.snAp.snAp.snAp.hiSSSSSss

not even close to the
yester.

i imagine my spinal
cord are his keys.
none of which note-
to unlock
the harmony
of walk.

Tuesday 23 March 2010

ahh, a daydream


AHH... The swank.

Low lights become bright

flashing with the
s l o w turn of that
disco-
let's have a ball, doll.

Come here-
to my mind,
my lap-
the tap of my toe...
on the count of four..

let the horns play-

stop and go-a slow stroll.

the smoke makes it hard to see-like a dream.

pond mist-
it's a jungle. Jane
with red lips
swinging those-
hips
if you watch
twist
with the rasp of the rattle..

Ringlets and wing tips..
slips and rips..
lines and rhymes..
powder and puffs-
snuff.

Mirrors,

Separation of the time,
reflection of what is sought to be seen.
Scream.
Screen.

Sequins lost..

What a lovely train ride.
Keys smile..
glisten.
ivory teeth.
Underneath-

Another gin please
dah-ling.

Make it a double.
The night's young..
and we're all getting

old anyway.

wrinkled


on the way. in between. where we meet. where we shake
heads and hands.


last wEEk. HEIDI




by
Johanna Spyri

Illustrated by Pelagie Doane

1956



"Heidi makes us feel how grateful we should be for all the lovely things, and all the loving-kindness that there is in the world."


.... She remembered all the exciting things she had seen the previous day and wondered what this new day had in store for her.








Monday 22 March 2010

mar 7

There is more contrast on this rise of Sun.days pass and eyes see the inversion of all what has been.
Paint drips in black and glistens on the way down but never makes it.
Bulbs sprout. Opposite-reach. Roots, i remember:

I once knew a man named Cheeseburger. He was big. Smiley. A scare bear. Same space, a man named Cocktail. He mopped for money. Got stoned from an oregano joint with benefit. We laughed a juvenile stream, scream. To some a gutter, but here, also a woman named Pearl. They say the world is our....

.... all within a palace on 7 mile.

Blue bottle of Bombay. Navigator..
and nicknames remembered.


mar 3

Forgotten black book.
Instead, typed. thumbed in pink, rewrite:
No, written:
_____________________

Yesterday on one of the longest escalators upward, a bouncy boy of 9 playfully tried to travel down. he. prompted three smiles of strangers. One of them is still existent. One of them to share..

Only to be buried by the morning commute and the of captivating dreams that made the a.m beep unrecognizable.
Late.

Cold and waiting, train jumping.

I wear layers. I see layers.
Dots. bumps. lines. engraved. yellow. white. a curve. grayish brown. bricks. darker than above. 2 layers like upside down steps. covered in soot. flat wall like barnyard dirt followed by a thick cable bound tight. variety of thickness. four pairs stacked high with purpose.. maybe more.. leading to rocks, pebbles..

I'm thrown to a a game of hopscotch in the school yard.
That one time.
On the black top. Inhale. The smell of it on a hot day.
I think it was RedHawk. Despite my age.
I miss tether ball and the time it entailed.
Concrete in tire.
I miss it all. Family aboard, where a fist is a toy and a custard cream is worth tears.

They sit down. The mother juggles it all. Mom has yellow dots for eary jewelery. Candy Dots never made that color. I don't care.
Actually, the cognition proves that I do.



I was wrong:
They did make that color, and I do care.
One may say I care a little too much.
Is there such a thing?
Caring too much?


mar 2

A dream of a catheter and a paper chase in my pocket.
Another day of shine and cyanide.
The waves sparkle another green line past.
Another day
Another start.
My path, a new way.
Excitedly, I see the continuation of people's paths; the old way.

The sun is too alluring to look down.

With each step, I have a word(s):

Rust .Teeth like shadows. Ivy. Barbed wire. Dots made from sun-negative space. Angles. His curls. .. Deep bass slung Lo. up high. Not one single puff of white. Tiny plane. Fade red door. Salmon. yellow box. Blue sleeves. Turqoise phone to match. Pigeon toed. laces also like the sky. Three nests. Bare tree. Pine cone flowers. Lilac. four bags stuck in trees.

I somewhat obsess over that.

mar 1

Another first.
Thirst.
Fist.
List
of to dos and not. The surprise sun makes all else
irrelevant.
For this, we waited so long.

Chicken bones-molehills of sick, like a rhubarb pie filling. Crowded paths of feet and an elbow next to mine when plenty of space... a missed alarm and eyes closed, I allow the sun to make my eye lids see through...

I see orange. My lids are thin. My imagination elevates beyond..

pen down.

feb 26 p.m.








C2C.

A partial man. Line drawing. Off the map. He's gone. Unfinished, exactly as it was destined to be.

Deep metal transfer.
dArk mAtter.
The end of the South.





feb 26 a.m.

With a noodle around my neck tones of misnamed grape, I spiral..
down.
over.
through the sky's release-a tightness is back.
Jack.
The other day and green it is this day.
Blobs and dots. Swirls on fuzz. Oval elbows, I told him, I liked.
Never mind the morning rush:
Upon my tap he turned with haste. Surprised;reply, "Wow-you made my day."
Separate stairs we stomped, raced rather. He had nice elbows. He had to be told.

Green again. Leafy spinach on my lap. Morning richness. A smile from a stranger-a "good morning" and thanks to the driver-
I get it..
I pull my harpoon and my dirty red bandana...Joplin.

With tarp blue ruffles my spin becomes a dance..
now, I am spiraling up.

The richness is manifested from within.

feb 22

There is so much blue today.
A new blend, chipped polish.. AAh.. the friendly ink has been far too absent.
Blueberry blue-the kind with more red.
Textile of the 80s.
Hue.
Multiplicity.
A crane-more yellow than green. Like the sky that is not blue.
-A saddle bag-
sack duo B-
Hood stripe-
Her puffy shoulder.
Yarn on my wrists.
Offy plastic, suffocation. Speckled trousers on square seats. Cubes of chlorine-I imagined like ice. Does chlorine freeze?

Back to blue-
Help point in a rectangle.
My umbrella, can only help the true blue if it fell from the sky instead,
Eye. Continues
to spy
and collect
those drops
of that hue
y o u.

feb 28

Another bumpy road. Big Red, a g a i n. Held to regulate service. Drums of f ears on repeat. Resting. Lack of.
Looking instead. Out. Wet. So wet.
D
r
i
p
p
i
n
g

Puddles.
Mud. Stone darker.
Road slicker. Cars make more sound. Tar and tread. That hiss of friction where the rubber meets the saturated path. (imagine) Tread. Bread. Crumbling. Fumbling. Mumbling between words and ways-whys.
no surprise. Clinging at the curves, my spine, jagged. White. Line. Up. Set me down-the glass like a thumb print of streams-never to be replicated.
precious. Drop. Drip drip drop..
let's
try to smile.

blog break.wake.resumed. the BLOG IS BACK.

broken letters and words, connections.
wireless and beyond. wheels turning.

pitter patter and daddle. doddle. waddle in blur. fur. fury and fire. fright. all night.ers. broken cords.ties. zip.
long strides.hide. in the rush of it all.
still i scribbled. here and there.
now, to share.
the yesterdays,
gone and returned.
finally, i am still.
i am here
as i have desired.