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DrewTM |
Under stars in silent clouds
Casual, like freckles
Killing every gasping sound
Through sun breaking--bending at least
Revealing gradients and stripes
Yellow. Green. Blue. Fantasy.
Indigo was made up by a teacher.
Never run longer than the light.
Give up on rainbows.
Labels: Drew
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DrewTM |
bask given
owl stern
ale (re)possess
round white
totem evidence
hungry dismiss
Labels: Drew
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Fred |
The tern cut a thin circle from the sky,
all feather and wings and call.
It weathered the light, it wore its flesh
and its flight loosely as it curved
over the horizon, out of sight.
I imagine that it does not know the patterns it follows,
does not remember that it followed the same path
not a year ago, that its memory cannot trace
that same thin circle, loses its place in the seasons,
the annual reckonings, in the home of grounded sticks.
I dreamt in splinters and slivers that night,
carry through the day the notion that I can
follow in its wake, answer
its one note question with my own.
Seven days it took to cross this fiction,
measured in sheaves of seconds, quivers of hours.
I retain the suspicion that there is no melody
that I have not yet heard. I unfold my hands and spread them,
in front of me like a map. I wear this flesh loosely.
Labels: Fred
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DrewTM |
I am now going to count a number of words. The only meaning that can be prescribed for this conundrum is to pronounce judgement on the works of fiction with which we surround ourselves. The number of words is also equal to the number of parts in the whole orchestra. But the orchestra has fewer parts than the word parts. Additionally, peanuts have the same parts as the orchestords’ calculus.
The end is very nearly the beginning, if you don’t count all the stops in between and the fire that rages on inside each of our minds. “Deltoids have faces too,” they say, but they are wrong. However, the fire and the deltoids do have one thing in common. They are both imaginary synchronizations and simulacra of the modern age.
Labels: Drew
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Daisy |
I just recently moved to San Jose after living in Southern California all my life. I don't have any friends out here so I decided to join a meetup group. Over the weekend, my group met and painted pottery at a studio. I'm really happy with the results. The inspiration was Gustav Klimt's "The Kiss" painting.
Labels: Daisy
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Dalia |
To Dan Quayle, Oscar De La Hoya, Alice Cooper, George Romero, Rosa Parks, Charles Lindbergh, Clyde Tombaugh, and this guy.
Labels: Dalia
1 Comments
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