Saturday, December 17, 2005

Light hearted approach

Lift spirits up in their stirrups
Praise the law for making it possible
for chickens and children alike
to walk over silences in the trenches
where the fires and distant sources
of smoke are fused with religion

tarnish not the spine of the novel
of life with scars of a notoriety
out of your hands - his spirit was taken
once by the press and now spread
wings thinly in any medium

box it let itself out of feels confined in artifice
box it found itself in left its window wide
and screaming like the cape of nighttime

or the feeling one has as the lift doors
enclose us and we rely on the inventions
of others not to fail
otherwise we may simply die

its that end of things
we can never describe

10:30am Sat 17 December

Saturday, December 03, 2005

old woman sits and stares at the ceiling
dust has now formed on the ridges
that define the room

She sits and stares for hours
and the wind settles her senses
as it picks up and falls with
leaves in its mouth

He dripped sealing wax over the envelope
And sealed it with the thump of the stamp on it
and sent it to his love with a kiss
only to find her annoyed with the sticky
red substance that alarmed her
so she called the FBI
but dialed the wrong
number and got the IBF
instead so her whole house was restored to its
former glory and years of plastic
surgery kept her in roses
as unknown books flew in via the mailman
and kindness of the hand on the toll gate
of pride before abandoned old folk
who sit on rockin' chairs in the old yellow
afternoon sipping at a whiskey glass
forgot to fill it but came back for more
than a lasting impression
full of horned music
amd foul humour
she skipped to the dance of her ears
her listen to this old creeking chair
old aunt Harriet sits there thinking
who knows what is is thinkin'
all the way to the end
as she sits and rocks
the clock ticks on by
she sits and time
floats by with all her memories
leaving by the lines that form
on the dark ceiling