Sunday, October 23, 2005
A tapestry of shoes 23.10.05
The structure of
completion
is a frayed collection
of threads
and it is the frays
where severances
hurt and where
they retie newborn
offshoots of hemp,
roughed off
of their own accord
but tied tighter
than old shoelaces
burnt with selotape
and holding together
rubber and the soul -
i am molded to
you in this old shoe way
scared of discard
or tempted by it
Polemic 23.10.05
it is the fuck-with-you
way with complete disregard
for anything I say or do
that says it
if this were a record of
samples, with a hip-hop
beat sliding between
them, it would yet
crave meaning, But
these words, these
linked-tight hardfast
daft yet credible
Words are what make
this, This believable
and all i do is stand
in a red t-shirt
banner in hand with
a hoarse voice and
a look of (hurt by lack of
remorse) incredulity
that changes nothing,
no thousand words
in a photo, but
a thousand unloosed
tongues with no more
voice than a woman before
Herod and even more
screaming babies dying
as i wear a red t-shirt
(it wasn't red before)
and a banner limp
(with tears repressed)
if only the wind would
shriek to steal the air
that rips from their
throats the dirge of the dead
the speedbumps are
graves as i walk, unflowered
and graveled and potholed
for the lack of digable
soil to cover up the lost
Road 23.10.05
I would be gracious
were I yet prepared to
thank you
but that is the
dark backroad that
betweens us
left open to wound
down windows
and heart-blown
kisses goodnight
(I'd rather not it's
easier to fight)
Carving tree 23.10.05
I can still see green in
the moonlight of
oak leaves
shrouding the moon
painting pointed patterns
over memories
they are sharp aren't
they when you pick
them up
enough to make an
acorn worth planting
for my intents
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