the hurry-walking crowds in rush of wind,
Moon’s child,
Earth’s relative,
gravity.
Posts published in April 2006
because later you’ll know
she was always
somewhere
eyes wild
as though
you nev’
seen the
world ‘fo’
but i
know this
sight, bright,
blinds me
from know’le’ge–
sense of
life, the
er’rant
en’ergy
s’rrounding
us, what
is
Life,
lived,
a
living
history
of only-known
mem’ries
what is this force,
this
gravity,
this
energy/
friction/
pulse:sustained/
journey/
revolutions,
grinding,
`moothed by
repetition/chance
of familiarity,
a
reoccurance for
a lack of knowing
anything/everything
else.
as this sun hides from eyes,
i ‘vision ‘fore spot brights again
to shine, to show
where light fars from.
have you tried to grab
to hold
to
prop yourself
on
distance?
distance,
the
but not the…
could
distance be
a
matter of the mind
a
tool by which to measure
a
gift of patience
is distance
merely vacancy in want of fill?
or is distance
fill in want
of vacancy?
to
have sight of she is pulls
feel there me
know somewhere toward
her
have you tried to grab
to hold
to
prop yourself
on
distance?
distance,
the
but not the–
could
distance be
a
matter of the mind
a
tool by which to measure
a
gift of patience–
is distance
merely vacancy in want of fill?
or is distance
fill in want of vacancy?
i never thought
i would know
where these words would take me,
where they would go, but
now i see it’s
not about who i am
not about who i want to be
but about being
a man, being
who i ought to be–
i chased
these thoughts and
found they fall infront of you,
at your feet, they’ve stopped,
humbled, broken, pieced together with
a sense of urgency and you kneel for them,
holding a corner up and
feeling the coarse fabric fail to crumble,
the weight too much, a
thousand pixels tear to ride in air, in
breath you breathe– they tremble, falter,
shatter to be brought back to reality
on the stone-bare floor,
so
cold ‘cept for your eyes, marching
in stance of soldier, piecing together with
a thoughtful imagination all that could have
been said but laid down instead, and you
lay your hand, lay the corner down to
pool of paper, propped on what
was never given, but offered, before you,
in hope you’d
want to know–
every bit/every particle of
these manuscripts, like
molecules built to perfected rose,
petal:dark in blood-driven pump of heart,
i
walked along your fence today,
noticing the criss-crossed pegs
still rotting, grown over with
the soggy rains, but
in summer’s bright-baking warmth, they’ll
dry ‘fore too long
sit by while i
anatomically attack you with the fluidity of
a chopping block, unflinching to the release
of a thousand-word-a-coward, precision-guided
anonymous deterrents placed routinely in front of me,
so autonomous as the act of breathing, see, i’m
the prodigy overgrown, too tricked by a talent
continuously lying/spraying randomly, these thoughts
weaken me to a mind of an infant, crying, unable to
wipe its own face, so why not spit it somewhere,
someplace else away from me, onto you, a
subordinate offering from the child to the rest of
the class/Damn. I forgot that part.
random as hell, but i was bored and liked anatomical/autonomous/anonymous/continuous
every mornin, every sunrise,
every day a kinda light
comes t’start bringin me outside
these eyes
to find a crisp, new
way to live this life