Keeping time by counting pauses in our speech.
Clockwork.
Keep cool cat.
Keep catatonic.
No longer polyphonic.
Semblance of history.
Repeat.
CTL-Z
Repeat.
A mnemonic
coulda come in handy.
Yesterday.
A of a
of a
Now let me put my hands away.
Tag Archives: writing
I’m climbing into the corpse of a whale
3 Oct
Lisa Hannigan – Nowhere to Go
She spoke to me of hands,
that afternoon.
And I dipped mine in sands as
we all knew.
She showed me delicacies, in depth
topography.
Perhaps, it was lost on me.
I said,
“I think mine forgot all of these
intricacies,
or they were burned off in my
infancy.”
“Look” she spoke, coaxing smoke to
speak “It wasn’t me.”
“They’re there.” pulling my hands from
sea bones.
Telescope eyes focus, begin and I
atone.
I sky scanned and saw sails that
drew me in.
Wind that need these thin threads,
that bleed.
Knead thoughts, by now she had
the read.
Impede. She cannot know about
image: Unidentified photographer
Shudder Fotter
24 Sep
Sparklehorse – Return to Me
I walked, and ghosts awoke me.
So very high a bridge beneath
my feet.
A man who jumped before
paused.
A girl engraving light
on slides behind glass.
They see the same sight.
They hear a similar score.
But different tones of thunder and brass.
A moment before.
Equivocal and opposite,
God’s Grandeur and the loss of it.
Open mechanical and golden gates.
First opened for the descent
four days late.
image: Curtis Gregory Perry
Nobody else even knows you exist
18 Sep
M83 – Facing That
Light letting fog pale blue and lavender hues reach my eyes and I comprehend with cones. A world too beautiful. I see plains before the time of names, before signs and invisible lines I went and vanquished.
On the tip of the sky, I know what I’ve got.
I left coffee rings on everything.
Where did these elbows grow?
–
image: Giant Ginko
We fall from trees with grace
13 Sep
Flying Lotus [feat. Laura Darlington] – Auntie’s Lock/Infinitum
Sometimes you can’t wade through,
and thoughts they carry you away.
Drop.
–
And you’re falling with the rain,
Impact back in bed again.
Awake.
Pause Pause
Grow Grow
Orange Orange
Stop Stop
–
And you’re back underneath.
Sometimes we ride the tide,
and sometimes we hide in the deep.
tied by vine sheets.
Heavy foghorn hair
skulking in the ocean green.
Perilous eyes seem tongue-
tied toes turning in trailing kelp.
Help knew no beginning.
–
Too long I’ve been sinking,
sinning in my dreams,
stinking up the seams of my sheets.
image: jspad
The Water’s Creeping Over the Floodplains Again.
29 Aug
Okkervil River – A Girl in Port [Demo]
We’re making that rich soil.
We’re confiding in all the wrong people.
We’ve got fish a’ plenty.
But bread and wine’s a different story.
–
The water’s creeping up in my chest.
Spills in my arms. Shaky.
But flood plains keep the water tame.
Disperse, absorb, reclaim.
image: laerpel
Something to puncture your thick skull, to rip hulls on some quiet night.
22 Aug
Blip – Sounds of Faces
Nights that call to me, and the mists that wrap their shoulders, and the lights that are their eyes. I’ve been waiting. And even though I ignored your brothers, I will pencil you in. Spontaneity was never a strong suit, but not a weak side I’ll forget. I remember. My head craned to the sky and I left the others behind. The stars, a second, a year. Not a minute I’ve been here, and only a minute to go. Will I dance around die? Or have something to show? Would I care if no one knew my name?
I see lemongrass groves.
I see hooves of snow.
image:Lundra.sawson
Spectacle
10 Aug
Her Father and Her – Adam Green
I shook the spectacle,
and it took me by the hair and sat me down.
Calm him down.
Calm down that man in his head.
The days of rain and plastic leaves.
The time i stuck that stuff on sleeves.
imissit imissit imissit
The dust and stone stairs, bay views and warehouse ruins.
Now I’m all caught up in the spectacle.
It’s respectable.
It’s applaudable.
In the crowd,
the crash,
we’re inaudible.
The Journey Pt. 1
7 AugSeed pushed up, and slowly grown in
foreign storms, the winds of Mars, from a fallen oak
on the highest peak of Carroke Point. Altitudes
a different sort. I scaled the eastern face,
felt the breath of death and toppled on the
small plateau. The Peak.
A puff of whipped cream at my feet. The cloud.
The clean. The seed. A different breed.
A closer look reveals shadow pupped corrugated
leaves. Interesting. What could it mean? The
wind recedes. I walked around and surveyed the
scene. Serene. The sediment at my feet,
rusted iron filings, chipped granite and peat. Definitely
unique. How did I…
drawing blanks
25 JulFunction - Tiger Cub Samurai In quiet solitude, sits. I t ol d her "de ath r e s ts quietly. "de ath i s n o t k ind. l e ts run. s lit de ath 's lif e." "n ice" s he quip s, her a r m s de ka n, e y e s sof t. s he beckons. image:dtomaloff
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