What a long and wonderful journey it has been...
The Last Axiom of Chaos
Plaid patterns on my pillows
disclose the cigarette smell
that embeds itself on my clothes.
I plead that the drugs aren’t
breaking through, causing
my hand to bleed more or less.
Could the karaoke just kick
the habits into the parabola’s
depths, the bowl’s black hole
where yesterday is a paper air—
plane next to Tuesday’s canvas.
Red liquid, brown spirit, don’t
drown the ground so quickly,
don’t pitch the tent before dark
because I’m sure there is some—
thing worth waiting for. I’m
sure that every theorem will be
disproven by a great mind and
tonight seems like a good night.
Goodnight chaos, goodnight
my butterfly.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Mouthwash
Mouthwash
Lemons on a tabletop peel
themselves open until the
anxiety passes and diffuses
through the gases of planets.
Your face familiarizes every
time the cup flips, every bit
of temptation that tilts the
scale to the point where it
tips and the windowsill’s
flowers wilt, water them,
water the mispronounced
lager alongside the distillation
apparatus that can’t make
the clouds clear enough to
take the parallel lines off of
your wrists, the perpendicular
thoughts your mind wonders
on and over. letting go is
the acid of fruit on the table
or the cigarette butts that we
all are putting out on our
forearms, in our minds, where—
ever there is space to dispose.
just remember my fingers
won’t ever be crossed, just
remember the blankets that
slumber comes with protect
us from our own destructions.
lemons in an open wound.
01.12.08
Lemons on a tabletop peel
themselves open until the
anxiety passes and diffuses
through the gases of planets.
Your face familiarizes every
time the cup flips, every bit
of temptation that tilts the
scale to the point where it
tips and the windowsill’s
flowers wilt, water them,
water the mispronounced
lager alongside the distillation
apparatus that can’t make
the clouds clear enough to
take the parallel lines off of
your wrists, the perpendicular
thoughts your mind wonders
on and over. letting go is
the acid of fruit on the table
or the cigarette butts that we
all are putting out on our
forearms, in our minds, where—
ever there is space to dispose.
just remember my fingers
won’t ever be crossed, just
remember the blankets that
slumber comes with protect
us from our own destructions.
lemons in an open wound.
01.12.08
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Eagle Nebula
Eagle Nebula
I peer into the Pillars of Creation
and oscillate between ideas,
ones of addicts recovering and
those who think the toilet bowl
tastes like a fine New York Prime.
the mountaintop needs his fix,
the ice doesn’t let him ever show
his true colors, its bushy eyebrows.
bears in caves overdosed on day—
light, living on limited supplies.
Don’t tell me how many teeth
to show or the range when it
is time to start quitting, melting.
the spill on her dress is nothing,
there is no thing worth huffing,
then puffing, and trying to blow
houses down for the windmill will
suffice, for every mammal is addicted
to breathing and pulsars. For there
is a comet waiting to end it all and
high altitudes won’t feel a thing.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Eagle_nebula_pillars.jpg
I peer into the Pillars of Creation
and oscillate between ideas,
ones of addicts recovering and
those who think the toilet bowl
tastes like a fine New York Prime.
the mountaintop needs his fix,
the ice doesn’t let him ever show
his true colors, its bushy eyebrows.
bears in caves overdosed on day—
light, living on limited supplies.
Don’t tell me how many teeth
to show or the range when it
is time to start quitting, melting.
the spill on her dress is nothing,
there is no thing worth huffing,
then puffing, and trying to blow
houses down for the windmill will
suffice, for every mammal is addicted
to breathing and pulsars. For there
is a comet waiting to end it all and
high altitudes won’t feel a thing.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Eagle_nebula_pillars.jpg
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