Thursday, June 23, 2011

carpet is the start,
basic, room is a yes,
when you walk in ,
you ask

and sitting now , listen
to guitars, breathing, voices,
condense into little clouds
then sounds rain down

you drink of the beauty,
of the beauty of the voices
of the passion in the strumming
of reverberations
dampening the carpet,
you want to lay down in the water
you want to stand in every corner


carpet becomes end,
and when will end when
eternalness of yes sings to
you, ask

flyers flutter, cling and clothe
something silent, wall is/was
fertile, seeing will of cull
and all over words, minds rove

(not to reference cliche)
but apiculture-like movement
rustling bits of hung-up paper
to reproduce an apt display

(all is futile, swallowing
dust and bitter fruits of flyers
"before the harvest comes about
we must become us"- singing)

hope someone to book my soul
photocopy it, in odd
flourescent orange tinge
to staple to the silent wall

before the harvest comes,
so to become us all.


Monday, June 20, 2011

sleep soft, tonight
we shared a storm-cloud
and nothing more
than loudness, both ours
and dousing sounds
same wet rains,
thunder, the lightning
and damp remains
in the morning,
soft light.








Sunday, June 19, 2011

the stuff
no, the response
we call it 'matter'
you
(getoutyourelectronmicroscope)
need a preposition
to see it
= dialogues
and a question
i have is
who do i matter
to?
as i listen-

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Thursday, June 16, 2011

walked on the side
and carried the
other ams,
underneath my arm

stuffed into
a plastic bag
the fabric wet,
manifested ands

of collected "whos" or
the thought of me, the weight
that being, fills my hands
and pulling, sways my gait

but barefoot,
walking back
with unburdened pace

(the lightened clothes, or)
ams or ands
mattered less than

the who of place.








Sunday, May 29, 2011

i stand above
in the dark and
see lit-up vowels
on a once-quiet plain

like whispers to no-one
that i hear them
a concession
to a secret love

to talk to patterns
with my wonder
and my withouts
how could i?

or could i lie
face-up on roads and
fill my eyes
with filaments of