You can feel a storm coming
The first faint rumblings
low frequency dips
deep bass frequently
tumbling
into the hiss
of rain
diamonds falling in formation
sky fathoms movement rushing
repetition, repeating, replication
multiplication, reproduction
implicating water quantities
drips out pooling
as a coral sea
at once
tears of all ages
blood, snow and bile
cooling in the muddle of puddles
so revisited
ad infinitum
pharaohs, landmarks, history and light
raindrops and race cars and robots fight
for spaceships exploding into splendors in flight
tension
in rusty unhung
windy trances relegated, commanded
for the un-mended fences to dance
in the tendency, modestly demonstrate
corroding Swan Lake
an aperture focused
on fates
keep a ladder in your pocket
every lamp needs a socket in darkness
Waiting for lightning to illuminate
to the unchecked
box you climb
Mountains I am,
as a sky you lay over in a starless, seamless black
like storms need a calm sky
a blank canvas
to imbue
with fury
and meaning.
Showing posts with label run out groove. Show all posts
Showing posts with label run out groove. Show all posts
Thursday, December 11, 2014
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Morning Escape (blue dawn)
Old time money
is fading
books unbound
flip, whipping
around in the air
impaired
my hollow atmospheric
stare at the rockets
red glare
stitches in woolen
arcades unraveling
in the cold
evening twilight
words reabsorbed
in to the very first page
these words, invisible
thimblefuls.
the first page
is blank like the second
and the record begins
with nothing
but crackles
and mysterious hissing
grooves long and thin
with delights
trapped within
and long winding high
ceiling cathedrals filled
with inept spirits
who long for a host
a steeple filled
with people
and spectral shipwrecked arms
gather flowers
overhead.
is fading
books unbound
flip, whipping
around in the air
impaired
my hollow atmospheric
stare at the rockets
red glare
stitches in woolen
arcades unraveling
in the cold
evening twilight
words reabsorbed
in to the very first page
these words, invisible
thimblefuls.
the first page
is blank like the second
and the record begins
with nothing
but crackles
and mysterious hissing
grooves long and thin
with delights
trapped within
and long winding high
ceiling cathedrals filled
with inept spirits
who long for a host
a steeple filled
with people
and spectral shipwrecked arms
gather flowers
overhead.
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