August 23rd, 2006

Current Music: Lift Us Up– Matt Sweeny & Bonnie Prince Billy Time: 10:29 am Current Mood: uncertain

breath we that air of ashes breath white bone humid in the purple air [dust to dust] purple throats are flicking their siren tongues at my bones. wood wet slippery and slipknots was it a secret you almost slit to me? But secrets well I keep. Cross skeleton. Highway fossils. Roadside graves on car accidents. Blue of idle bells falling on rain rain tasting of purple naked dust purple rubs clean virgin full moons dust cold feels purple purple roads seeking out purple mountains, dust to dust to purple sage.

comments: Leave a comment

August 14th, 2006

Tags: medusa Current Music: Postcards from Italy– Beirut Time: 10:51 pm Current Mood: listless

The silence that I sometimes keep is like the snakes erupting from Medusa's head. Silver- tongued silence hissing secrets in the Air and flicking away Awkwardness and Rudeness and Politeness. Licking out rivulets of lisps. I sometimes have a serpent tongue. forked. silver- pronged. ––––---––----–––- The song that I am listening to is trickling into me like rain drops sliding slow and lethargic and sudden as goosebumps between my shoulder blades. ----––-------–---–––– I am living a silence-full quietness that can only be shared and sustained in a Timeless space-less place-less nameless dreamlike Place. Else-wise this edgeless ageless existence-less silent chaos is under the threat of being quaked to death by something as subtle as the smell of a paper cut. In the Living Existing Doing World the silences in which we finally meet fall through cracks of Unpreparedness and Wrong Time Wrong Place. Tomorrow we say. Like madness slipping into shadows between the folds of a rose.

comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment

July 23rd, 2006

Current Music: Poor Little Rich Boy– Regina Spektor Current Location: A studio flat in 1956 East Village, New York Subject: You're so young, you're so goddam young........ Time: 05:59 pm Current Mood: small

Abandoned graffiti marks decay states toppling over each other crinkles ripple, rock has more motion than solid water old dumpster is leaden with gold rust rock gapes sheer water painted smears: this is the color of a fall– shadow purple, rust purple. thier murmurs shout incandescence to the still puddle's world of loss, which suspends breezes in time and swallows any scent of the sea. slight images are skimmed and hidden by ribs of breath. frogs gulp, still water is time turned to rust --------------- A Sonnet (Almost) twined vines of silver slight wrists and ankles bend limbs peel apart with pale burning tremors broken sinews merge like split strings of pearls passing shadows threaten elongated trunks sun drowned leaves quiver their kite like wing tips dew encrusted webs taste of salt sweet sea heat molds my hair, eyes thread needle pricks of dew the breeze cuts with sliver of cat's breath caterpillars of doupt crawl under your skin sarcasm skittishly skirts malleable fragility bent between waist and hip, in a damp place centipedes of jealousy creep behind your ears limbs weave between each other and oppose dead growth crumples weathered hands from delicate faces ------------- In a rusted car, blue. Cracked sky, blue, with canary yellow. The shadow of tires creasing oil into pavement, blue. His legs crossed on the dashboard; coffee brown against gray leather makes purple shadows, like the blue and red of the veins in her wrists. Her clasped hands on the wheel curve like the caw of a crow, each a solitary dessert trailing the smoke of broken feathers. The salt of blue green air mingled with the gravely sting of his harmonica as waves were frozen by the velocity of their car flying by. The notes of his breath through the harmonica pulled the ropes of their separate solitudes; and their glances threaded their fine hairs.

comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment