Thursday 25 April 2013
a quick little life
thick purple skies, swam crushed stag beetle
that makes me feel like the night hours on flight
some arc of clouds are the ghosts of lightning across
orange-gold-grey light, cold hair smoke
my blood's birthday, the melted fast of candles
warm gloves, or that is how it felt.
—Ian William L.
Thursday 18 April 2013
Sunday 7 April 2013
thoughts of/on a thousand paths, they could be screaming
The dusk is still a flare we set off.
The dusk is still a flare we hold between us.
Tuesday 2 April 2013
fools
1.
Please don't let the world be in your body now.
2.
The words do not matter. I can disguise them, how the mind is crippled. I hear the song more. I feel my cold stomach throwing. I find you. I find you amongst them, in great mistakes of faith, ragged all.
3.
I want to lay out wood carvings, metal thunderheads, twin glasses halving with infinities. I don't want to speak much.
4.
So much hinges on this, what was thought safe—the book grows hands.
5.
I cannot type. I am picking gingerly at static honeycomb.
I am licking the screen, slumped. I am only "I am".
breathe out—heat strings, chemical jars, asphalt beaches.
this is a piece of scrap paper with the secret of everything.
this is mona lisa grimacing.
cold headaches.
the midnight stare.
trying to conjure a dead rabbit.
this is advertisement space. this is meat.
wrong whoreish bell.
pale contraception.
an engine of colours to smear along your palms.
gap tooth wonderland.
appendices not correctly attached.
ugly math.
this is something. this is nothing.
this is a feeling. this is not a word.
a paper aeroplane, bowel cancer, apocryphal, home.
6.
Carry your passions, no matter their ugly glow. hold them for stars.
7.
And still no way (to make a voice so loud.)
But always a new hello. maybe this time with a nice shirt, the pressed buttons.
[some abstraction. some missing pages.]
8.
I am toothache, and pirate ship. I am old and unwise.
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