busdust animalsloll and swirl againstfake forest leatherpeering(around sable beaststrands,sun-sullied to pyrite)at a garbled missivescratched and misconstrued,its stories unvoiced-"warm is uncomfortable;cold is far worse."
You UnderneathYouunderneath,brushing the willow,swallow many branches, whilebrushing the willowunderneathyou.Silence,they hear thescratch, the barkat the back of your throat.Scratch the bark,they hear thesilence.Youunderneathbrushing the willow,silence!They hear thescratch, the barkat the back of your throat;scratch the barkthey hear thesilence,brushing the willowunderneathyou.
the carnival of ash.If in time of flowers there should come a waltzing hour whena watercolor caravan breaks through a grove of charcoal trees and from the boughs you see some tiny wizened fingers flash the secret skies a sign at morning,then take care to bend the sunbeams, shush the bed springs, dust me from the dirty corner, sweep my bones, cajole my feet, for the king has called off melancholy.It's a carnival of ash.If in time of needles you are dancing with black beetles and you hear a velvet beating from the heart within the groundget away from torpid thinking pay no mind to time or costmove your mouth to sound the callthis is the carnival of ash.Hear the wicked little nettles pine for places in processions. Here the mandarin orange doctors scrape lapels and scrub their noses. They sell potions disproportioned with a disease for every cure, and little more, their pockets lined with plastic, for that bit you buy but never see, so equable and agreeable they are. Here too mu
ExistenceFirst light rends the heart and spirit,feelings a blend of ire and regret.Addiction born of silent doomfills the hollow of a vacuum.Make haste the readiness,one must not fail.Flaring sun blazesthe blinding rays,a cool breeze cutsthe vanishing haze.Joy to the world,the faithful songbird sings,spiritual signs illuminating a path of Glory!Look! The tiger is pouncing on it's prey.Silence.The victor is not of the mighty,but of the cunning.The snake slithering away,to be caught another day.Turmoil grey rolling in over the clear skiesravaging the blue and white mix of serenity.Shells heaping over the horizon soon arrives,Earth washed dry by the crystalline purity.Gone in a flash.Beams broke through the thick smog,remnants of conflict are in the bog.Stalled time frozen by ice then shattered into a million pieces!Then found never to be pieced back the same as it were.Setting sun brings the dark ages,confusion and chaos amongst the faces.Set the soul aflame,burn to
Photosynesthesiaby memories i am awakenedinside-out creationsgather on the floorthe carpet is growing outits summer coatunstitched and unfrayedfrightend again, insects set sailas speed and sound combineunwind the pipe's lazy flowsilken steps in combat bootscreep likelichenframed in the fractured lightdark chambers open,let in approaching nighti don't believe...there's sensein death and resurrection,clap your handsand bring us backflickering through pagesof life and ominous cloudevolving underground, seedsof thought; embedded in thefertile grey soil,an exchange, of sortsnew alphabets formed in fictiononly to foretell the pasti can't believe...she speaks;photosynthesissymbiotes, gunk and scumthis conservation; energyshattered in the stormunlocked bolts, breedfire in the fieldtwo voices echoin different worldsworlds,mushrooming into amestris unknown;stepping from stonetostonesit by our sea of troublesspill the salt,into freshwater woundsthrow over your left s