Upon this day, in Nineteen-Eight, She came forth to some small acclaim, Within a people tinged with shame But whose regard for tribe was very great — No, she would not be second-class, Nor bathe in some subservience To customs made of little sense Nor what to her was meaningless, or crass, So burst she, … Continue reading "A Moral Theory of Biscuits"
life, untidy, uncontrollable: a city sitting cross-legged on the bed of a lurching truck a shadow being chased by the sun the same air processed by the same mechanism in wildly divergent people a plate of eggs and toast, when you ordered a pizza voices cutting across, but never breaking through
It’s said to be better To be a participant — More glorious, and honorable — Unless You are not built that way. Some are made to be reflective, Refractory, Mirrors of what they see: Nearby, but always outside — For those, for us, There are times and things and people, And the feelings Assayed to … Continue reading "Onlooker"
he is not who you think he was (the pinky wants another ring) the dolor of the troller who lives circumspect and anxious (here there’s a thing that we saw once. or maybe twice. my memory’s vague) you read the history of the plague, and realize the ways they’re … Continue reading "captains of the pursuit of celebration"
to warn people so tribal, They’d rather crash friends Than see everyone safe who I actually am, I see talking over and across smugness mixed rhetorical points never actually engage Safe Balkanized no one who disagrees often despise either, As practiced by others. uniformity And conformity I’m not the lighthouse dimmed years ago, Neither do … Continue reading "Screedshot (v2)"
He sees a girl he likes. He wants to own her heart, or body, really — It’s all there in his mind. The steps, the dance, the conquest (well, ideally) But that’s not how it works. His model is too static: When two people are there, Variance is quite dramatic, And it’s dehumanizing, seeing Others … Continue reading "That’s Not How It Works"
stirring puddles, feelings running, slopping, anger lost hiding in the slanting pour of too much all too much always never too few way too few in the paltry drip of passion left empty loving nothing, once more puddle gazing
Slightly, the tree sways. Carefully arranged books and new blankets Stand beside the watcher, the explainer, Who, in turn, dreams of a valley (Where hopes sleep kissed and roots drink deep) Unlike the bright bay, Where flounder and cobia Flash through glints between skis Such wasted potential — To be so much and to barely … Continue reading "the matter rest"
in gentle makings, small, meticulous, precious, breathes the whisper of a caress