the smithy was empty
and the tree near it had fallen
and no one had expected it
the sunken sun had made a stand
with desperate gaiety
swept through sleep
to break the night
The Autumn children
like caged birds
counted the crocus stalks
and for footfalls of a misbegotten
soothsayer
.
i'm pick'n bramble thorns
piercing
mine limbs
whilst
at distance
oooh
you
yummy
pick'n
berries
megaphone bemoan
ignoramus laureate
soapbox needs a wash
***
I whisper with a force
Like a door ajar --
I got as far from you --Silence,
The Stone Watching --
And there is no mercy for my tears!
How can I have you
With the stem -- with force
Under the Steal's volcano, in lava --
Emily, in the Fall.
Genius quotations uttered from sleep deprived lips
are often lost ‘lest an inspired being types them
down into a list of unusual thoughts and perceptions.
Unique and individual ideas and ideals dribble
out of the mouth numbed from far too much vinegar
on the chips from the convenience store down the road.
Laughter echoes off the walls as the sober person taps
and tips the piece of English art onto a permanent
record which may be looked at again and rejuvenate ideas.
2-Pac kissed me tonight,
just before I swallowed my thoughts,
I think he could taste them,
bits of anger and self pity,
sharp and unforgiving,
my saliva, his blood,
with an emotion too strong,
from my dripping red lips,
to a once warm puddle,
I doubt I'll see him again.
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