prompt submissionpredictable texts behind pupils bloodshot staring stress between paper scream precipice & fall before pain all color & noise no structureprompt submission
oneFirst the trash man, cheerful cheerful - then the wire fence. Then the perpetualone
puddle of muck behind the deli in the tan alley. Fumes erupt, perfumes,
stenches, silver noise glares the tension is current everybody is almost late. Glass and metal, cranes my neck, walnut, brass, elbows, rubbing, noses, peaking. Here is my least comfortable all day, almost every day. I turn on my computer roll up my sleeves and I think about the trash man.
noon's loomsnoon's looms string loose taut bones, and set fire to the stones in the street's roofless rooms.noon's looms
noon's looms spin nuclear & worn, and blare their bloated horns over clear, lazy fumes―
trees are opening the palms of their hands, with their lines of fate borne low with the waiting leaves' weight, & drawn on the noon-air's sand.
birds are screaming and surprise themselves with their leaps & caresses & fights; their wings are still much too bright, and the winds are collapsing shelves.
men in the road are all clear as
fire, or waterwere this blurred, we'd be submerged, stuck under the waves with warping colours & corals falling away from a certain blue surface, where white animals are climbing. hot & cold climb the same ladder into the eye and we see everything sharper:fire, or water
today there are sky-flags, halfway tattered. browns & sea-thinned greens, then reds & great flames are traditional but the starving stag, steaming in the cracked courtyard says blue is autumn's secret favourite, the colour of bruise & ozone & iris.
a leaf can fall like a cracke
| I like spiders and salt and the way the mind works I love to read. I am a societal misfit I will eat the wisdom-frosting off the top and move on if i make a real friend, i take them with me. |
four
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my website [link]
my blog [link]
too kind
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I hung on that windy tree for nine nights wounded by my own spear.
I hung to that tree, and no one knows where it is rooted.
None gave me food. None gave me drink. Into the abyss I stared
until I spied the runes. I seized them up and, howling, fell
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