LustreLost

it used to just be certain songs. and i guess maybe ideas, or magazine issue themes. oh yeah and grammatical errors.

now its gone so far that i cant even cut an orange. with out cutting the way you did (do?).

in my efforts to erase, i've embedded.

consciously not thinking is thinking right? i'd ask you but i guess i can't.

you're not the helium balloon that slipped off my little wrist at the carnival all those years ago are you? you're the one that stayed tied tight, and then lost its air slowly over days in my pastel bedroom.

shriveled and sinking, no longer kissing the ceiling. suspended mid height.

no longer shiny.
lustre-loosing.
matte.

wrinkled sun-hot plastic.

pop.

senior seminar

tree skeletons.
blowing blossoms like bubbles
of bubble gum pink,
from their frail lips,
their gnarled finger tips.
they burst into beauty.
maturity.
debutant and crinoline,
crying rosy tears all
over the pavement
that turn brown and rot.

loveful and falling

special issue of As Syllable from Sound, never to hit news stands, is in its final stages.

it will be mailed to america.

maybe when i'm 40 (or when someone pays for the things i make...) you can see it.














[it was written quickly which means it will be honest and painfully personal. eek]

entitled: inebriation

maybe

It's as though nothing ever happened...

Earl Grey

Thick, almost
white milk. poured right
out of the carton.
sinks to the
bottom of the
cup.
like a stone in your sea.
The warm black
(both in degrees and tone)
accepts the clouds
as they mushroom and swirl.
The dimensions subside to flat, uniformity.

down hill

as i was running down the hill, just south of my house, i saw a couple walking up the hill. she was so pregnant. and her shoe lace was untied. he bent down and he tied it up for her. she didnt even notice that it was untied in the first place. if i saw them at a party across the room from each other i wouldnt guess them to be together. but here they are.