February 16, 2013

she said...

Illustration by Fritz Willis ©

she said, she liked the color the blue

relax, it is nearing
the end of Winter
someday we’ll color eggs
don’t worry about the entire world
throw open the windows instead
cook things on high
fry an onion
tell yourself
are leaving
carry torches
ready to burn with
what you want

she stops me
and I sing
dead things
dead things
dead things
skin cells falling
into open mouths
legions of mites
easing into a neglect
of my own humanity
every apathy I can master
burning me to no end

I hear 
turn right
then left
then right again
I swerve my head
I bow to isolation
to individual creation
I auto-pilot survival
to a slave nation state
I cling quiet, irate
to any relevance
I can thieve
as this world
gone mad 
is beyond
my comprehension

and starvation are heard
every day, in the same sentence
we constantly broadcast
piece-mealed salvations
with narrower and narrower
we sell ourselves
we deserve more
we often choose
foggy recollection
over truth’s sharp
easy bleed
its diamond blade
of water and time
is our orbital memory
our emission 
of will and gravity
shaping our desires
into everything
we put up for sale
behind the glass
behind the mask

the weather channel says
you want
you need
conceptual electrons
as a designed means
to store the faces, places,
the spaces between
every death
and birth
in the rain
sleet or snow
we know
may or
may not be
coming your way

she says
sighing, sitting down
a high Sun
is gathering toward
the mirror and
the way the trees look
says its backwards early October
already looking over its shoulder 
for Summer again

she tells me 
not to give up
just yet, Spring's
easy weather
rich yolks
and shells
warmly broken 
are all waiting
to say hello


No comments:

Post a Comment