|
Ars Longa
Vita Brevis
Guilty parties.
ryan
shaun
wendy
simon
Critical evidence.
andre breton
james dickey
kafka
theodore roethke
wb yeats
sylvia
ts eliot
irvine welsh
chuck palahniuk
dostoevsky
Forensic reports.
edward gorey
man ray
simon boses
Admissions of guilt.
deadcandance
cohen
nick cave
natalie merchant
rammstein
iggy pop
Crime scenes
aurora picture show
diverseworks
theater LaB houston
voices breaking boundaries
Damning testimony.
surrealism
roller derby
exploding dog
levity
girlsarepretty
|
Poetry is being epileptic.
The swell and flow of morning
fades between noon's unmoving leaves
It stutters and slurs like a Ouija,
A neat wedge of wet wood
tumbles like a head from the block
The trees keep time
to the axe's bright clock
and shudder under the weight
of relentless tick-tock
or a drunken proclamation.
Death to survive
Most of it has a slumbering potence.
And there I was
standing on the lonely lane
looking for a way
back home again
I try and revise, revive, these monstrous children. I suture a dangling foot. I break a malformed spine and set it in a body brace of rebar and nylon rope. Like a novice god, I butcher and revive my whimpering creations- throwing one to the gasping floor- lashing another to the table. If anything escapes it will be terrible.
posted by James @
2:15 PM
|
Freitag, August 09, 2002  |
This is where I say something clever. This is where I say something smart. This is where I say something insightful. This is where I say something that bridges the gap between you and you and you and me. This is where I say something that matters. This is where I say something resonant. This is where I say something that justifies my existence. This is where I say something that forgives. This is where I say something that transcends. This is where I say something that makes everyone forgive me. This is where I say something that makes us no different. This is where I say something that sets the world on fire. This is where I say something that heals all wounds. This is where I say something that explains it all perfectly. This is where I say something that captures the night sky in my fist. This is where I say something.
posted by James @
11:26 AM
|
Donnerstag, August 08, 2002 |
It has been a while since I have been here. I have thought about it a few times. It is like a song. If the first time you hear a song it is with someone, someone close to you, you don't always hear the words. Instead, you experience them, the webwork of veins on the back of their hands, their hair found on your clothes days later, a nervous warmth left on your lips, the marble weight of their body in your arms while you watch TV. There are some songs whose ether is so subtle, and there are some people whose flesh is so permeable that they are forever commingled. However, there are those other songs that after some time you can actually hear the words for the first time. I appreciate those songs most of all, they can carry the weight of life without groaning under its weight.
posted by James @
11:07 AM
|
|
|
|
