Negative (revisited)

drawing murray

toxic fumed bathing,

clarity blooms from dark, the

coloured light haunts my

 

imagination.

Memories developing:

my jukebox romance –

 

cigarette, beer in

one hand, the other rests on

sound waves lovingly

Sometimes, I just need Nirvana.

“if you ever need anything please don’t
hesitate to ask someone else first,
I’m too busy acting like I’m not naïve…”
Gold.

 

ineffable

I can’t find the font

my mind is speaking in. And

then the magpie sang.

you are not alone

dwight

Summer stretches out

the viscous my mind’s pushing

through, enticing me,

 

to take a dive down

into the undulating

clarity telling

 

myself that it is

possible to take with me

what I know now and

 

swim without any

paraphernalia, (like

er, oxygen tanks?)

 

No, that’s not what I

mean. So I should take a breath

and when I find me

 

down there thrashing the

life I think is unique to

me in my naive

 

(but adorable)

youthfulness, I would say, “HEY!

You need to hear Dwight.

 

And wear these goggles.

(And don’t open that email.)

And trust me. I’m you.”

 

originally posted, March 21st, 2017

 

mind eisegesis

I so admire your

attention span, I wish it

came in a spray can

 

Old photos 1113
image shamelessly stolen from somewhere a long time ago

soundtrack

dust from your paintbox

the plaintive rain of decades

the canvas is filled

 

I had a dream once, and this beautiful song was playing in the background.

 

 

 

She climbed for the view…

 

over all of the pieces

missing in action

 

but so far from field

she was too high to collect

any meaningful

 

semblance of early

configurations of their

mis-relationship.

 

She had to go down

and follow the river bed,

to lie underneath,

 

to wait in the depths.

Heart broken by the sight and

defibrillated

 

by the breath of One

already there, bleeding out

poem’s syllables.